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Class i-..c=/-Vr= 
Book 



E53.Ca. 



Author 



Title 



Imprint. 



CUPID 



VS. 



CUPIDITY. 

A SOGIETY DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



CHARLES REED. 



Kntered accoi<linp: to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Charles 
Reed, in tlie ollice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



WASHINGTON, D. C: 
T. J. BKASHEARS. PRTNTER. 

1873. 






a^'^■' 



.'^^ 



ctrpiD 



vs. 



CUPIDITY. 

A gOeiETY DRAMA IN POOR ACTS 



BY 



CHARLES REED, 



^Catered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Charlbs 
Reed, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at WashiBgton. 



WASniNGTOX, D. 0.: 

T. J. BRASIIEARS, PRINTER, 
1873. 






CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Lee Baiuiett. 
AiiTnuR Huntington, 
Edward Brayton. 
Lord Hetheri^y. 
Snaggett. 

MURCHISOIf. 

James. 

Laura Brayton. 

Edith Ilchester. 

Alice Atherstone. 

Mrs. Edward Brayton, 

Sarah. 



CUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 



ACT I. 

Scene 1. — Private Bvawinq B,oom — Ocean Houm, Long Branch 
— Door ami Casements — Opening to Balcony in Flat — R and 
L doors. Enter Mil. and Mrs. Brayton. 

Mr. B. No, no; my dear. You are all wroiif; — all wron^?. 
T maybe stupid; but stupid people can no more run counter 
to ilicir natures, tluin can tJjose more favored. 

Mrs. II Hut will you not allow me to explain V You are so 
linsiy, you will liaiHlIy allow me to ciowd a word in edge- 
wise. 

Mr. r>. Oil, ecrtainly; sa\' on; I've no ohjcctio?! to your 
doing so; though 1 warn you if yow continue ms you have he- 
gun, it will he little better than useless. When once my 
mind's made up, it refuses to he changed for any but the hcnt 
of reasons. Furthermore. I warn you tlnit I will oppose the 
plan you have named. Proceed now, if you must. 

.]//•.•«. />. V>\\\do\)ii reasonable, Edwai'd; of course I find 
no fault with Arthur, nor haw I aught to ofl'cr against the 
possibilities of happiiuss, in cast' he inarri<'d L;nira, but — — 
well, if I had another daughter to dispose of, 1 should forbid 
her making an engagement. 

Mr. li. Ha, lia! — what next I wonder? How would you 
jiroceed to have her married then, after she ha<l reached the 
proper age for matrimony ? Have each aspirant for her hand, 
inelude with his proposal an invitation, to visit the ])arson's 
without dela}^ for the lying of the ntiptiai knot? Dispense 
with troiisscdii, and all attendant things so llaftering and 
southing to a feminine vanity? Oh, lie! my dear, you could 
not advoeate so poor a plan as this. 

Mra. Ik You would pervert the proplu^ts, I verily believe. 
What I meant by the woid engagement was moral obligation 



a CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

to do or not to do; to act as a restriction upon eillier part}'- to 
the compact. If exist it must, it should only be signiticant 
as showing the then existing state of feeling, and in no wise 
binding or coercive. 

Mr. B. The chains of love, my dear, are 7iew,r hindin(]. 
The fetters are of roses vroven into links by Cupid whli 
which to tie the willing victims of his darts. I give, of course, 
the most readily accepted idea; according to which, it is a 
state of bondage only to those who have never been there, in 
truth a state of bliss almost divine; a feast of soul with soul 
upon the hearts emotion. 

Mrs. B. Which might sound very fine to some love-sick 
noodle, but is hardly to the point in question. Supposing that 
one enters upon an engagement in the best of faith, but sees 
in course of time a chance for betterment — a fairer social 
prospect for the future? But no; you say the obligations 
■when imposed becomes inviolable. There is no exemption, 
no release, except through a loss of the love which formed 
it. The cause of love, I suppose, outweighs the cause oC 
reason — and mast ever have precedence? And the one wlio 
would release herself except for the reason you have named, 
Avould prove herself no better fitted for a second than she 
l)roved herself illtitted for the first. Believe v^e, a conclu- 
sion overdrawn. 

Mr. B. My dear, the point in question with me, is here: 
The one whose cause you have made your own, and whieh 
so permeates your interest has no desire to have it advocated 
in the manner you have chosen. This bickering — this mat- 
rimonial speculation — is allyour own unsought and undesired 
1)3^ an}^ but yourself ; you will persist in being blind to the 
impossibilities of improvement. There can be no improve- 
nient upon perfect satisfaction. 

Mrs. B. But Edward, I certainly have the rightful claim 
to be consulted in this matter, and I must insist that it does 
not give such perfect satisfaction as you think. It is you 
who are so blind as not to see what must be plain to others. 

Mr. B. Well, to please you then, I'll grant it. But first 
you must hear to what I am blind; to where may be the sense 
or interest in breaking off the existing relations between Lau- 
la and Arthur; to the justice in so doing when neither have 
the desire to have it done. Then to me, there seems a la(;k 
of justic in proposing it wiien Arthur is away. Perhaps you 
would like to know w^herein my vision might be of use? 

Mrs. B. It can be but dim from what you have said, but 
proceed. 



CUriD vs. CUPIDITY. 3 

.)//•. n. I fan see that they love each other; that they are 
111 eveiy way fitted to make each otlier happy; that there is 
no Haw in the character of either from which to predict the 
tuture rupture of tlieir happiness; that to alienate them for 
llie undesircd social distinction of one, or for any purpose 
whatsoever, would be little ](Jss than cruel. 

-lA/x J>. Oil, very well, if this is your opinion. But do 
you tlilnk that Cupid's wounds are never curable? To learn 
to love impossible? 

^fr. Ji. A delusive cry this ?('n!?';?. ^6> love. Properly speak- 
ing, it is an attempt to force love, and is deserving of dis- 
credit for the misery it has already caused. 

Mrs. B. AVhat more natural consequence than love should 
romc with love — wealth, high station, rank and title, with 
the innumerable advantages w-hicli they give? 

Mr. Ji. All of whicli, believe me, my dear, are as nothing 
compared with that wonderful something often limes invis- 
ible to all but the eyes of love. Cupid is a most inexplicable 
It'llow. He aims no darts with an eye to mutual advantage. 
More often he slioots the other w'ay. 

yfrs. B. Oh, well; if you will set the example of being 
obtuse, I suppose I need not follow it. 

Mr. B. Certainly not. 

3/>*.s'. />. There is Lord Ilatherl}^, i\\eheau ef^prit, and anni- 
mating spirit of our best society; the acknowledged catch of 
the sevtson; diitlnfjue in appearance; immensely wealthy; 
owning large estates in p]ngland; irreproachable in cliaracter, 
and with a name which any woman might feel honored in 
accepting. 

Mr. B. A perfect jewel. 

Mrs. Ji. And it is plain to ererij one that Laura has made 
an impression upon him. lie was quite devoted to Alice Ath- 
erstoue until we came, while now he has quite forsaken her. 

Mr. B. Humph. And Arthur is to sufl'er a worse fate than 
.Jonah — that of being thrown overboard into a sea of trouble 
and affliction without the providential refuge of a whale's 
stomach, simply because he fails to reach this high standard 
of pecuniary and social excellence? 

Mrs. B. Oh, pshaw! How provoking you are. Do be 
reasonable. 

Mr. B. This peer of the blue-blood realm is a wonder- 
fully attractive person I suppose, and without doubt is the 
])oint toward which the hopes of all mothers, with marriage- 
ble daughters, should rightly tend. He is both a Marquis 
and an Earl, if I have been credibly informed. 



4 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY, 

Mrs. B. He is. The Marquis of Ennerdale and the Earl 
of Asliford — the former through his father, and the latter 
throLigli the deatli of a distant relative, he being next in the 
line of its descent. 

Mr. B. You have posted yourself thoroughly upon this 
side of your cause my dear. And these titles are old enough 
T i)resume to have constituted a portion of the cargo of 
Noah's Ark. Just think of it. Oh, I never could survive 
being the father-in-law of such an accumulation of antiquit}'- 
and greatness. I acknowledge the honor, but distrust its 
eftect upon me. 

Mrs. B. You are enough to provoke a saint. Do at least 
try to talk sense. 

Mr. B. To oblige you, I will; and v.ill begin by insisting 
lluit Laura be allowed to follow \\r.v own inclinations. Jii 
her happiness should consist our own; and she must be 
allowed to 'exercise her own discretion in the choice of ahus- 
band. If she had.made a false and danger(»us step, it would be 
but rightto Interfere. But no; she has n),id(^ her choice and we 
liave signified approval, and now to stiive io make her alter 
or repent that choice, would more illy-become us than all 
others. It must nnt be, aiul you will have the goodness to 
respect my wishes. 

Mrs. B. I hope, Edward, you will not Imagine that I had 
any but the best of motives for 

Mr. B. Expressing your ambitious designs? No, my dear; 
but tiingaw^ay ambition, for it is a delusive light that oft(?n 
leads to misery. The i)athway through life is strewn with 
the wrecked hopes of its demented followers. It is strange 
how few that heed the warning. (Enter Saeait icitk mail, \\. 
n. ) I was wondering where the mail could be. 

fiarah. It just came, sir. {Gives to Mr. B., and exit i.. d.) 

Mr. B. {E.vm nines mail.) I. aura is the only favored one; 
and here are several letters for her. {Deposits them on table.) 
By-the-by, where is she? 

Mrs. B. She went for a drive down the beach with Lord 
lletherly, al)out an hour since. 

Mr. B. Humph! Lord Hetherly! Well, we Avill say noth- 
ing further about him at present, except to express a hope 
that he includes good driving among iiis manifold accom- 
plishments. 

Mrs. B. I see you h.ave the Herald. I suppose / sJionld go 
and dress for dinner; but Ell wait and hear whatever there 
may be of interest. 

Mr. B. {Heads. ) C uba, — Another stmgtiinary conjiici between 



CUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 5 

the Spanish and Tiif(urgent forces. The latter ar/ain victor Ions. 
The insurfient (/orernment endmvoring to negotiate a loan to 
i-arry on the war! (To JMiis. B.) This, I suppose, does not in- 
terest you. 

J/y.s'. B. Yes, it does. Tlie heroism of those poor Cubans, 
fiirlitln!^ and dyinj; foi* their independence witliout a friendly 
power to help tluMU of all those who profess to see the justiee 
of their cause, would draw a tear of pity from an eye of 
stone. I will listen to that after a while. AVhat else is there 
startling. 

Mr. B. Startlino^. (reads.) London. — Horrible accident 
on the Chc^^tcr and Ilohpicdd railroad. Thirty lines lost! 

Mrs. />'. Oh, ferribio! terri])1e! 

}fr. B. Humj)li! Y( s — terrible — but h'lrdly sensational. 
Katlicr epidcmic.-il. {rending.) Tri<d of the Her. Jfr. Hohaon 
for hiqnnn/ and inloxicdtion. 

Mix. //. Oh, sliamcful! shamefnl! 

.)//•. B. Hum ! Yes; they nre pretting to be strictly 

ministerial i)rivileges now-a-days. Wiiaristhis! As I live! — 
Yes, it refers to Arthur, (reads.) Elopement extraordinary! 
It came to light at a late Inmi- yesterday, and from a S''urce 
known to be reliiible, that Arthur Huntington, junior parliner 
of the old established banking tirm of Starne, Hun'ington ct 
Co., of this city, had left for p iris unknown, and under such 
circumstances as to sive rise to the belief that there is a much 
darker side to the aflair tlian the one now given to the public. 
Xo information concerning his absence could be gathered 
from the other members of the firm, and the questions of our 
rei)orter who visited them, were met with ominous silence. 
It is furthermore alleged that ]Mr. H. is not alone in his travels, 
but has with him tlie young wife of a prominent lawyer also 
of our city. Any new facts in connection with the case will 
be given to the i>ublic as rapidly as developed. (To Mes. B.) 
It is a lie! — a damnable lie! — as foul a calumny as ever dis- 
graced the pages of journalism. I know it is, Ek)pe, 
indeed — and what for. It is a downright libel, and a villain- 
ous one at that. 

Mrx. B. It is very sad indeed, I know, my dear. It's 
quite distressing. 

Mr. B. I should say it was. It is as truthless as the iin- 
poster who wrote it. 

Mrs. B. 8uch depravity is real]}"" astonishing. Tt quite 
shocks my nerves to contemplate such painful de|)ravity, and 
one feels quite disposed to lose all faith in human goodness. 



6 CUPID VS. CtrriDITY. 

Position, friends and reputation, are all ca?! aside and stand 
for naus2;ht. 

Mr. B. Why a man's good name is open to as^^anltwitliout 
the slightest cause in reason. His reputation is in the hands 
of some impecunious quill-driver who does not hesitate to 
sacrifice it for his own i)uri30ses, however trifling. 

Mrs. B. The more one thinks of it, the sadder it becomes. 
It is indeed most sad. We all had such a high opinion of 
him, and thought him in everything so promi.sing; but find 
we were all wrong, all wrong. How very, very, sad it is. 
Poor Arthur. 

Mr. B. What, madam! Am I mistaken in what you 
said ? 

Mrs. B. I said we had believed Arthur an entirely differ- 
ent person, and now to find we had j)laced too high an esti- 
mate upon his virtue was sad be^'ond expression. 

Mr. B. And do you place failh in the credibility of what 
I have just read? 

Mrs. B. Why, we have no cause to disbelieve it, have we? 
If so; I have not yet discovered it. 

Mr. B. You have the evidence of your senses, if you have 
not lost them. Are we to sacrifice all knowledge of hitn in 
ihe ivast to satisfy credulity? Talk liltle (jf vii-sues lost in 
otliers, until you have looked to see what is missing in your- 
self. I grieve to hear j^ou own your readiness to pronounce 
him guilty. 

Mrs. B. Well, I am sure Edward, there is neither necessi- 
ty or excuse for any such display of temper on your part. 
You cannot refute charge by counter charge — and I 
am willing to admit, that to all appearance, Arthur had been 
most exemplary in everything. 

Mr. B. Such an infinite display of generosity. My dear, 
I am sure you will soon repent of it. 

Mrs. B. You have no other reascni, but your past knowl- 
edge of him, for so violently impeaching the truth of this 
statement. 

Mr. B. And pray tell what more you would have; what 
more is needed? What more would anybody ask? 

Mrs. B. As you remarked a while ago — angels have fallen. 
Then, why should you place such implicit reliance in Arthur? 
He is no more than mortal ; nor is he any better fitted to with- 
stand the wiles of Satin than were many who have fallen, ere 
now. 

Mr. B. I will not aUf)w myself to believe that it is true. 
Some God-forsaken reporter, who relies for his position upon 



CUPID V3. CUPIDITY. 7 

his capacily as a liar will torture words into a thousand ways, 
without the shadow oi' a reason, except to acoop liis competi- 
tors — as he terms it. 

Mr.s. 7). I wonder wliat his confrere, almost brother, Mr, 
JJarrett, will have to say. I really feel sorry for him 
for he thoui^ht so much of Arthur; and since his 
return home last week he has been (juite lost without him. 
He believes him a little more than mortal. 

Mr. B. Do not let there be any reckless extravagance iu 
the; disposal of your sympathy, my dear. If I am not mis- 
taken in the man, he will believe as I do, and have few 
ttumks for the sympathy of any one so ready to think other- 
wise. 

.U/'.s. li. It will quite shock Laura, I am sure I will not 
say but what she loved him; but of course she must soon get 
over that, now. Appearances are so deceitful; like the cov- 
ers of a book — no criterion from which to judge of its con- 
tents. 

Mr. li. That being your opinion, be careful that 3'ou do 
not fiill into the error oi relying loo much upon the infalibil- 
iry of your mental vibion; which has already become im- 
jciired, I think, and )»roiui>ses ample food for repentance in. 
the future. 

3//'.v. />. I should, indeed, be sorry to find that I had 
Avronged Arthur in anything; l)ut really, l^dvvard, knowing 
the frailty of human nature, and the liaiiilily of all to err 

Mr. B. Two phiases stcieolyped on the brain of heavy 
nu)rality, and used exclusively in that interest. We will say 
no more upon this subject for the i)resent. 

Mrs. 11. 1 am willing to admit 

Mr. />'. Admit nothing, for you might repent of having 
done so. You are. of course, entitled to an opinion regard- 
ing the truth of the accusation; but for m^'^ sake, now, and 
your own in the future, have tlic sublime grace to keep it to 
yourself. I trust your expression of a belief iu Arthur's 
guilt is an honest one. Conscience is most relentless in its 
pursuit, and not lacking in means of torture. An outraged 
conscience is a hell far worse than the one we read of. 

Mrs. B. Uut Edward, Edward 

(Laukx's rolcefrom bdlrony.) 

Mr. B. I hear Laura's voice, and suppose Lord Iletherly 
is with her. I hardly know how to break this to her. 8he 
will not believe it; but it will be agony, I know. AViie, 
will you? But uo. fill sorry tusay it, but just now I would 



S CUriD vs. CUPIDITY. 

rather trust myself. But how to make it easier for her; 
how. (^Exit 11. D.) 

Mrs. B. If this is true — and it must be so — when Arthur 
went away from liere hist week, he must have had it tliaii 
upon his mind. Oh, iiow base a thing is man. Edward is 
certainly veiy unreasonable in his anger. I never knew him 
Iv) be as much so, I'm sure I cannot think other than I do. 
I presume I ought to remain and meet Lord Hetherly. He 
is certainly a most desirable person, and hoAv proud any 
mother would be of i^nch a sou. But no, 1 will leave him all 
to Laui'a. I hope in this she will prove to be her mother's 
child. {Exit L. D.) 

{Enter Laup.a and Loiii) II, d. f.) 

Laura. What! No one here. Well, I will take the re- 
sponsibility of saying that we are welcome. Lord Hetherly, 
although this would hardl}^ seem a tit expression of it. 

Jjoi'd 11. Nothing more is needed, I assuie you. 

Laura. If you will pardon my absence for a moment, 1 
will endeavor to discover where the natural occupants of this 
room lia\'e strayed lo. 

Jjord 11. Ceitainly. 

Laui-a. In the nicjin whik' tiy and disi:>()>e of your time 
and self agreeably. 

Lord II. Thank you; 1 will. {Kxlt Lai:i:a, i.. jj ) There 
is \\i) second spur ntc^lcd here wiili whicli to i>rick \\u\ sides 
of my intent. A rara arix, this. She will prove a princess 
of Golconda to the one wlio wins her. Her fatlier h;is — (if 
one may place reliance upon that creature of exaggeralion, 
r'tiiDiion. report., a ])rince's revenue,) allowitig for tlie vixen's 
failing, he must still be a remove oi" two trom penury, the lucky 
fellow — -a place on the Hudson ; ditto in the city; humph! a 
bank account of ro^/r^r. Oh, there seents to be no question 
as t(j aliluence. Impe(mnio.«<ity has long been classed among 
tlie sins — and rightly it should be so. It is not fasliionable; 
it is unpleasant — in fact ir is deucedly iv,/(^_9^^/' to be poor. It, 
is high time to die when both money and credit are gone. 
If money is the rootof allevil, poverty is the antidote against 
all good; therefore, both are evils, and of the two I would 
prefer the least — the root. Laura is the only daughter — 
only child in fact. A good investment, very. Some say the 
])roprietary title to this young lady is to be vested in that 
Huntington; which would imply, I suppose, that everything 
was settled. I think not settled — beyond unsettlement. To 
ittisi the points .of his golden nimbus into a pair of brazen 



CUP ID VS. CUriDITY. W 

liorns, is no vvoiulrous trick when one knows how; and th*^ , 
horns once seen the cloven foot remains no longer hid. 
lie will bo the darkest devil of us all. 

Kakr Sauaii. 

Smi/i. Here is a card sir, for Lord Hetherlj\ 

Lui'd If. 1 will answer fc>r that individual. {Takf!^ en yd.) 

f^nroh. (dnidt.) A'int much to look at after all, if he is n 
lord, ^^uppose he wants to make Miss Laura a lordcss. He 
c?urt thouiih — she's took. 

Lord H. Very well; no answer is required. 

^V//v//^. Yes , my lord. {EjU l. t>.) 

/.ord H. (readii/roiH card.) A lfkkd Seymour SNAaoETT, 
Ksi^. A name grand in construction, though gloomy in archi- 
tectural i^roportions, and peculiar in cadence; the handle (»f 
KU honest man. lie av an honest fellow, so to speak; more 
lifter the model of modern lumcsty th(»ugh, which puts «(» 
hmit to the application of the terra. {dimnerH Lalka's hl- 
iiixci, lahJf.) Ah, here is something, {readx) Miss Lauka 

Uhaytont. Uefurn- to Stm nt, H>niti nylon & Co., ifnotddh^- 

nf.d irilliln fur days. A hilhf dovx from the younger Hunt - 
ingttm, undoubtedly. Humph: I'll do 'V.. Evidently just 
arrived. The absent Damon has a Pythias here in the per- 
^(.n of this Barrett. But should he disturb the bate we have 
set, and refuse to swallow it, he will pr(»ve himself more in- 
credulous than I think he is. Mrs. Brayton I should imag- 
ine to be, from what I've seen, one of that class of mothers 
self -st vied prudent— somewhat facetiously so, it would seem, 
who aim high but shoot low when husband-hunting for theii- 
daughters. I think I can rely on her to take the bait. As 
for the young ladv herself -well, she must l)e susceptible 

to the charms of rank, title, and elegant person— manly 

beauty I vnyht say. 

{Eakr Laurv, I,. D.) 

Lanra. I most humbly crave your pardon, Lord Hetherly. 

Lord IL And for what! Miss Brayton. 

Laura. For having kept you so long waiting. I hope y<»u 
found yourself good company, in which case you will be 
more kindly disposed toward me. 

Lord If. Hardly praiseworthy enough to boast of. But 
really I fail to discover the occasion for a display of clem- 
ency on my part. 
LMura Oh, very well, I shall not insist that there is one. 
I/)rd IL If you require pardon, it is granted without the 
asking. 



10 GUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 

Laura. You are really very kind. But I must deliv(?r my 
message before it is forgotten : I am requested to say that 
if your time has not already been too fully occupied with 
myself 

Lord 11. Oh, impossible! I 

Laura. And you are in no haste to take your departure, 
Mrs. Brayton will do herself the honor of seeing you in a 
few moments. 

Lj)rd H. It is I who am honored by remaining, and be- 
lieve me I am deeply greteful for the opportunity. 

Lmutoj. {examining letters on table.) She will not put your 
patience to a tedious task I am sure. 

Lord H. The pleasure it will afibrd me to remain will be 
unalloyed by anything like impatience, I assure you. 

Laura, (amle.) How provoking! 1 felt sure of hearing 
from Arthur to-day. 

Loj'd H. Beg pardon; but did you speak V 

Laura. I was rinding fault, and meant to express vexation. 
I think 1 succeeded. I expected a letter to-day from New 
York, and it should certainly have been here; but it is not. 
it seems. 

Lord IL I do most fully agree with you. Such things 
deserve the name of disappointments, and are always more 
or less vexatious. 

{Enter Biiato n «Sr Barrett, d. f. ) 

Mr. B. Ah, Laura, you have returned. Did y«)u have a 
pleasant drive? Lord Iletherly, I am pleased to see you, sir. 

Laura. Yes, very pleasant, thank you. Mr. Barrett, I am 
real glad you called. I suppose you feel like one who treads 
alone some banquet hall deserted, and sit and brood discon- 
solate upon the absent one? But let me introduce you to 
fiOrd Hetherly. Lord Hetherly, our esteemed friend Mr. 
Barrett. 

Both. I belive I have had the \ f ^^•'"^^• 

) honor. 

Bar. {aside.) It is strange what a superlative dislike 1 
have for that fellow. 

Lord IL {aside.) Here is this bifarious individual, adju- 
tant of the rival forces. 

3fr. B. Laura, where is your mother? {iiirns to eonverse 
icith Lord II.) 

Laura. She promises to be here presently, {to Bak.) 
When does Arthur return to the Branch? I had hoped to 



CUPID VS. CUriDITY. 11 

have been enlightened upon that point, by the gentleman, 
himself, but was foreordained to disappointment it would 

SCtMH. 

I>in-. (fimJe.) I knew she could liave known nothing of 
this miserable aflair. {to Lauiia.) I really can afford you no 
information, Miss Laura. 

Liiiii'ii. And is it possible that he has been as negligent 
with yuu? Oh, for shame. 

liar. So it would seem, I am sorry to say. 

La 'I I'd. But we will be charitable and imagine that he is 
either busy, or has planned to surprise us by returning unan- 
nounced. However, 1 must admit that I am disappointed at 
not hearing from him. 

Bar. Yes, no doubt; and so am I. But call in all your 
reserve forces of charity together with your scepticism. He 
may need them. 

1.(111 ni. What do you mean? Explain yourself. Has any 
thing happened 1' You have heard from him. 

liar. X— o. 

{Enter 3Irs. B., l. d.) 

Mm. B. Good afternoon, gentlemen. 

Bar. and Ixtrd H. Good afternoon. 

Mrn. B. I trust you enjoyed your drive, Lord Hetherly? 

Ix/rd H. Oh, exceedingly, thank you. 

Mrn. B. And you, Mr. Barrett, 1 suppose, find ample 
o|)portunlty for agreeably disposing of your time? 

Bar. I must acknowledge having occasional fits of ennui; 
but they occur so rarely, that it might be considered in bad 
taste to complain. 

Mr. B. I wish I might say as much. 

Mm. B. Oh, yes. 1 suppose you have all heard that sad 
report— a most Hhocking aflair — about Arthur, Mr. Hunting- 
ton. 

Bar. I have! — I have! (ofhevH dgnifying assent.) 

Laara. What report? What aflair? Has he met with any 
accident? Is his life in danger? Tell me, ^onie one. 

Mr B. {to Mrs. B.) Eleanor, this is neither time nor 
place for 

Laara. Time and place are of little consequence now, 
and it is but just that I should know, (to Bar.) You are his 
friend and must know all. Will yov not tell me? 

Lord 11. {aside.) Ah, I think 1 comprehend. 

Bar. The task you would impose upon me is a painful 
one, and yet 



13 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 



Laura. Transpose your prologue to the finite end of what 
you have to sa)^ Forgive my rudeness, and do relieve me of 
suspense. Is his life in danger? 

Bar. Not that I am aware of. 

Mrs. B. No, daughter; but perhaps it would be better if 
it were. 

Mr. B. Eleanor! {savagely.) 

Bar. Mrs. Bray ton! [sternly.) 

Lord n. {aside.) Humph! Indignant. 

Laura. Oh, this is horrible! and will no one, his friend or 
mine, show one grain of pity — one atom of mercy, and save 
me from the tortues of this terrible anxiety which is killing 
me. Will no one tell me what has happened — by what he is 
beset. All! All 

Mrs. B. Laura, this is extravagant. Unfeminine. 

L^ord II. {aside) I must agree with you Lady B. 

Bar. A painful myster^^ for as such 1 must believe it, at 
present surround Arthur; so painful that it is with difficully 
that I can bring m3\self to speak of it. 

Laura. Yes, yes! Go on. 

Bar. He is charged with that which if true, would 

erase his name from the roll of true manhood, and disgrace 
him in the eyes of all. 

Laura. No, no! It cannot be. You do not believe il: 
you were his friend. 

Bar. And am so still. No; it is a lie! 

Mr. B. As black as ever coined in the brain of Satan. 

Bar. Would to God I could throw the light of truth upon 
it, and with His help I will. 

Lord II. {aside.) I wish you luck, my boy. 

Laura. But tell me all. What is the charge, and who 
that makes it. All. 

Lord H. {aside.) Humph. That is the question. 

Mr. B. The Herald contains 

Mrs. B. Yes, you will find a clear statement of the ease 
in the Herald ; as much as is known, and quite enough it is. 

(Laura seizes paper.) 

Bar. I cannot believe in its truth. No more could 1 
believe it true of him than could I of myself or any here; 
and until it becomes the truth beyond all question, which 1 
pray Heaven may never be, I remain his friend, firm and true 
as ever. 

Mr. B. And I. 

Bar. I shall start for the city this evening, and satisfy 
my mind beyond the possibility of error as to its truth or 



CIPTD VS. CUriDITY. 13 

falsity, as I know lie would do were our positions reversed. 
{Mot:e» tominl Exit.) 

Laura, {pointing/ at paper) That, Arthur? Never/ How 
l>oorly do those who believe it know him. The artist who 
painted the picture has overdone his work, and cloaked both 
face and figure in a most unnatural drapery. There is not a 
Icature true to life. {to Bar.) I thank you for your words 
of confidence in his innocence. They add faith to faith, and 
ixive life and vigor to hope. This story is as base as the brain 
that wrought ii ; and, if need be, together we will strive to 
l)rove it so. May Heaven help us when the path is rough, 

Mrs. Ii. But Laura; this is most absurd, and absolutely 
ft>olish, 

J^rd U. [aside.) Noas Verons. 

(CuRTAiK Bell.) 

ACT. II. 

Scene 1. — Bourd^>nI)ell — Fde Cliampetre, — Party disposed at 
Liua'luoi, — Lauha, Alice, Edith, Lokd II, Mil. aj^d 
INhis. B., Cjiatterton, and others. 

Lord ][. {exiendiiif} glass.) To be sure this is neither 
Falernian nor Opimian, Italia's favorite wines, but still, like 
I lorace, we can boast of having drunk of v/ine born with us, for 
tiiis has that jileasant mode of addressing the palate wiiich 
comes only with age. {f/j Laura) But you do not join us, 
]\[iss. BraytonV 

Ijanra. 3Iorally I am with you, but I must refrain from 
being so in any other sense. Try and consider me a party 
to your enjoyment. 

Alice. But, Laura dear, you have not eaten anything, and 
that will never do, you know. If your appetite refuses to keep 
regular hours, you should provide against its coming. 

Mrs. B. Laura's appetite refuses to be coaxed, and is stub- 
bornness itself. It is really quite discouraging. You can 
little guess the trials of a mother. 

Jjn'd II. But I thought le fete champetre, such as this for 
instance> was recommended as an infallible appetizer. 

Mr. B. Infallible bore, if you will pardon the correction. 

Ijord II. Oh, certainly, (asid^) The old pump. 

Mr. B. Who ever heard of a pic-nic that was any thing else ? 

Alice. Oh, Mr. Bray ton! You will surely make, an ex- 
ception in favor of this one. 

IJdith. Why, I thought w^e had been having a delightful 
time thus far; did not you Lord Uetherly? (aside) Poor 



14 CUPID vs. CUI'TDTTY. 

Alice; she is turning a jealous green since lie has ceased to 
notice her. 

Alice, (asi'd^) The hateful thing; as though he would have 
anything to do with her. She seems to forget that her father 
belongs to the Credit Mobilier. 

Lord II. Why yes, I thought so. 

Laura. And so we have, {to Mr. B.) This pronuncia- 
mento against pic-nics was not unbiased I am afraid, and was 
somewhat mixed with sympathy for me. 

Mr. B. In part, perhaps, my dear. 

Lord II. Come Chatterton, you will belie your name if 
you do not soon say something. 

Alice, {aside to Chat.) He has chatter enough and some 
to spare, and might undertake to do your talking for you. 

Lord II. {aside) I am not supposed to have heard that. 
Oh well; she loved me as long as I gave her any encourage- 
ment. 

Ghat. Really my lord I have no desire to make myself a 
stumbling block to interesting conversation, and yourh' in 
particular. 

Lord IL You soul of generosity. 

Laura. Perhaps, Mr. Chatterton believes in the old Ger- 
man proverb — speech is silver — silence, gold. 

Edith. And one's honest belief should be held inviolate 
by others 

Alice. and not be made the objective point for the 

abortive attempts at wit of those who would do well to cul- 
tivate a belief in the truth of this proverb. 

Lord H. {aside) Humph! An antiquated specimen of 
cathood. {to Chat.) Your friends are very earnest in your 
defence. 

Chat. And I am proportionately grateful to them. 

Mrs. B. Edward, why do they call this Bourdon Dell? 
There is a ring of romance about the name. 

Mr. B. I cannot tell you, my dear. I first heard it from 
you. 

Edith. Bourdon! It is evidently French; is it not Lord 
Iletherly? 

Alice. You are not a Frenchman, are j'^ou Lord Iletherly V 
I thought you a loyal subject of the Queen's — Victoria 
I mean. 

Lord II. And there was a wonderful correctness in your 
thinking so; still, if you would allow me to pass an opinion, 
I would agree with Miss Ilchester. 



(MIMI) VS. C(:piDiTy. 15 

AU'-r. ia.siili) Mean thini;. I wonder if he did not try 
to \){\ sarcastic then. 

Hilifh. fjanra, dear, did not Mr. Barrett say somethin»; 
about a miniature Niat^ara hereabouts well worth seeing? 
Vou were to act as pilot Mr. Brayton, in case he did not 
return in time. 

1.(1 lira. Yes, but said furthermore not to wait for liim as 
he would probably be gone the greater portion of the after- 
noon. Home important business requiring his attention, I 
believe. 

Ml'!*. B. Well, if we are ready and all are through we 
may as well start; 1 suppose, no further preparation is neces- 
sary. 

Mr. B. Oh, no; and as I have been appointed the 
shepherd of this tlock, I will lead the way. Come, {movex 
tuirtird crit.) 

LdHva.. Lord ITetherly, if I am not mistaken, your friend 
Mr. Snaggett is going to make us a visit. Is not this lie 
coming? 

Lord. II. {aside.) What the devil does he want? {to 
l.inira.) Oh, so it is. 

{Enter Snaggett, i..) 

Snnrj. Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. 

OtherH. Good afternoon. 

Snag. I was driving by, and as I desired a word with Lord 
Iletherly, I concluded to take ad\'autage of the opportunity 
which presented itself. 

Mr. />. Quite right, sir. 

J.ord II. T)o not let me detain you in starting, for I will 
join you before you are through studying the beauties of this 
wonderful place. 

Mrx. li. We will endeavor to wait for you without im- 
patience; but do not keep us long in waiting, will you? 

Edith. Ilemember we have determined upon this as a day 
of pleasure. No business, except of the most imperative 
nature. 

Lord. I[. Believe me, I will join you very shortly. 

Alire. {aside to Lord H.) Yes, do. I hardly think we 
could survive your absence for more than a few minutes at 
a time, lla! ha! 

^frs. B. Come, Laura, we will lead the way. {to Laura.) 
cheer up daughter. 

Laura. I will trv. 



16 CUPID vs. ClPrDITY. 

{Exit Laura & Co., Loud H. & Snag.) 

Lord 11. Well, what is it. 

Snag. Who do 3^011 suppose has turned up, and is now at 
the Ocean. 

Lord II. I am sure I do not know ; who? 

>S«a^. Huntington! 

Lord 11. The devil ho is. Wlien did he arrive? 

Snag. I cannot tell you; but as soon as I saw him I came 
to find you! 

Lord II. A little scared, hey! What difference does his 
coming make to me. He is not accjuainted with anything to 
my disadvantage, is he? 

Snag. Perhaps not; but he may be to mine. I am not 
scared exactly; but I thought 1 wcnild advise you of his com- 
ing, and you could do as you choose about keeping shy of 
me when he is around. Re might worry himself into think- 
ing you were a friend of mine. 

Lord H. Well, and what tlien? 

Snag. Why, how stui)id you are. T fancy it -would be 
more depressing to your spirits than it is to mine, to be con- 
nected with that Herald romance. 

Lord. II. But you secured its publication through some 
reportorial friend of yours. 

Sang. At your request, have the goodness to remember. 
I'o oblige you. 

Lord 11. Yes; but he does not know that you are in any 
wise connected with the afiair. 

Snag. You need not tickle yourself with the idea that he 
is a fool; lor it is contrary to the general opinion had of him. 

Lord II. I would be obliged if you would explain yourself. 

Snag. Well, then, he was, or you imagined him to be a 
rival of yours, in amatory matters. I -was in his employ, 
but had a reasonable amount of regard for 3'ou — or rather an 
unreasonable amount — for it was that which weakened me 
in the hour of temptation. 

Lord H. Oh, cut that nonsense. 

Snag. I undertook, on your account, to find the vulnerable 
point in this individual's morals; but had not succeeded when 
the feasibility of the plan we followed presented itself. I 
suggested it to you, and it suited with certain alterations of 
3'our own. He discovered that I knew more of his affairs, 
and particularly those then in hand, than I had any 
reason to. I left there about that time, but remained in the 
city long enough to fire the train we had laid, and then came 
here. 



CIPID VS. ClITDITY. 17 

Lord 11. AVell, I know all this. 

S/Kft/. Of course you do, aud two days after I left his 
«'mi)loy we painted him with as much power as a pair of 
'Pitians would, upon the minds of a believing public. Two 
days, mind you. 1 did not tliink of it at the time, but what 
is more nalund than his thinking me the artist. 

J^'f/'if 11. Nothing that 1 see. 

SnKfi. Vou are devilish cool about it. I ma)'- be in for it, 
but I do not want to see aU our trouble go for nothing; you 
have, jierhaps, heard the story of old Tray who was cuffed 
and ki(;ked tor tlie evil committed by his associates; look out 
iliat tiie social atmosphere hereabouts does not become too 
warm for your (comfort, as might be the case if you were 
once suspected, lie will, of course, explode this bubble of 
ours now that lie is hack, aud he cannot find it hard to do 
either; he may think me too small-fry to inconvenience him- 
self about, but he would give you a lively whirl if you ever 
gave him a chance. The vigor of your matrimonial aspira- 
tions 

Lord 11. Oh, cut that too. Do you know T have not made 
even snails pace in gaining a foothold in this Brayton tamily. 

S/t(((/. I must admit having an opinion very much to that 
(■(lect.* 

Lord If. ]\[rs. Brayton is all right I think, and if she had 
one half the influence over her daughter that the ordinary 
dam has over her ofi-spriug, 1 should consider my chances as 
sure. 

JS/K/i/. As dam sure — barring death and accidents. 

Lord 11. But ever since XhsLt fauj' paa in the Herald — for 
it turns out to have beeu little else — the girl has done nothing 
but mope. 

>'<na</. And of course the driving process does not work 
very satisfactorily under such circumstances. AVell, you 
have no one to blame but yourself. 

Lord II. Mis. Brayton speaks hope as strongly as the 
language of actions will allow, and although I do not doubt 
her good will, I doubt her power to enforce it. 

tSiK-'f/. In other words you leak hope faster than she can 
supply it, which of course is very distressing, and now that 
1 luntington has returned, I suppose you will give up the tight 
and turn your attention to the inglorious arts of peace, ie: 
wooing some one more in need of a fond heart's afiectioii 
than Miss. Brayton seems to be. 

Lord 11. No, not yet; not until I learn what eilcct his 
coming will have. 



18 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

r r 

Snag. Well, success to you; but if you make no headway 
when he is absent and under a ban, how can you expect to 
proa:ress when he is present and the proscription removed. 

Lord II. But you do not stop to consider that it may take 
time to remove it completely, and, in the uicanwhiie much 
may be done. 

Snag. Well, if you want to see me, you know where to 
find me. I must be off and give you a chance to rejoin your 
charming companions, some of whom seem to be slopping 
over with affection for you. {mores toe.vlt.) 

Lord H. If you hear anything strange, let me know. I 
am much obliged for this manifestation of a willingness to 
rob yourself of an agreeable companion — which 1 fancy 
myself to be — for that companions good; it is a strong indi- 
cation of true nobility of soul, Snaggett. 

Snag. And more especially in this particular case. Well 
take care of yourself. {Exit Snag., l.) 

Lord IF. Well, this is a devilish clever turn in affairs, 
although, of course, it was no more than could have been ex- 
pected. Still, I had hopes of being more i)romi8ing]y situ- 
ated myself. However, the game is never uut until it is 
played out. {Exit r.) 

{Enter Bakkett and Authlu, l.) 

Bar. Yes, they have gone off on some exploring expedition, 
but will return; for see, here is the commis.'-ary department, 
or the sad relics of it. But, Arthur, old boy, 1 cannot help 
saying occasionally that I am awfully glad t<> see you back. 

Art. Then, do not try old fellow, and believe me I am well 
pleased to hear and to know that it is agreeable to you. I 
have fallen into a state of utter depravity it seems, since last 
I saw you; but I was not aware of any sinfulness, either of 
omission or commission until more than a week after the time 
of my alleged fall from grace. 

Bar. It is a ducedly mean affair; but the queerest part of 
all is that you have suspicion of no one. You say that fel- 
low whom we met just now was in your employ, and that 
you got rid of him the day prior to going away. 

Art. Yes; Snaggett. 

Bar. Did he cause you any trouble? Was he dishonest, 
and of a character sufficiently unprincipled and vicious to 
have attempted such an outrage as this, out of revenge for 
his dismissal. 

Art. No; I think not. He seemed neither knave nor fool; 
but displayed to a remarkable extent, a disagreeable habit of 



rrriD vs. cupidity. 10 

pryin':: Into niatlers oiitsido liis line of duties. It was this 
which led to liis disch:iri2:(>, for I discovered that he knew all 
;d)()utiiiy intended jiminey, althoiiti:li it had not been men- 
tioned outside the walls of the inner ollice. 

Jiiir. Then you do not think he could have done this? 

Alt. Hardly. Even if he had the inclination, he lacks 
the eouraoe. He belongs to that breed of mankind who liavo 
tu)t the nerve to shoulder a resi)onsibility. If he did it, some 
one must have been associated with hiui with whom to divide 
the evil conseciuences that mi,ii:ht ensue. 

Ihir. Ihit it is evidently the i)roduction of malice, and 

must have been written by some one having a full knowledge 

of the situation and circumstances. Do you know of any- 

ne but yourselves and this Snaggett who was so thoroughly 

posted. 

Art. Xo one; and unless their information came from 
him, there irdx no one. 

lidv. ^'ery well; then, from your own statement I must 
disagree with you; and, to me, it seems highly probable that 
lie took part in this tiansaclion, either as principal or second, 
since you will not believe that he would do the work alone. 
It displays malice and a knowledge of your afiairs. He had 
the latter, and his discharge gave a fancied cause for the 
former. 

Art. There may be some truth and apparent good reason 
in your suspicion. 

linr. Of course, there is; and yet it may be possible that 
I am wrong; still we have the satisfaction of knowing that 
the villian,' or villians, have done you little harm. 

.1/'/. But how much harm. I am most anxious to know, 
but whatever it is can be onl3^ temporary. Who were my 
fair-weather friends, and who my friends through all climatic 
changes. 

B(n\ There is I.aura, belonging to the latter class. 

Art Bless her; yes, and you too. Any others? 

Jiar. Her father has been your staunch friend through all. 

Art. Yes, I relied on him also. How about Mrs. Brayton. 

]i((r. Who! Mrs. Brayton; oh, yes; let me see 

Art. Well, never mind; I see how it is, and of course am 
.sorry; but will wait patiently until truth and her fancy strike 
a bargain — for with those you have named I can afford it. 
I landed in New York last night and took the second train 
out this morning. When I entered the ofhce of the Ocean 
1 felt like another Rip Van Winkle. No one seemed to know 
me, and, by Jove, I had my doubts about their accommoda- 



30 CUriD vs. CUPIDITY. 

ting me, and did not know but wliat I should have to go 
elsewhere or quarter myself upon you. 

Bar. I wish you had. I have always wanted you to since 
w^e have been here; but you insist on refusing, and 1 insist 
you do so without good reason. But I guess it is well for 
them that they did not hesitate long. For recovery from the 
chagrin and mortification of an unjust suspicion is a long 
and tedious process. AViieii tlio liutlj becomes known they 
will insist tliat they were never troubled with a doubt as to 
the falsity of the charge against you. But how comes it that 
you never wrote me before going away. I called at the 
olRce, but did not possess the ialismanic key to the con- 
fidence of your imrtners in business, therefore my visit was 
without effect. My appetite for information was met with 
the statement that all would yet be right. Forliuiately I did 
not require that assurance which souie others did. 

Art. Write you; why 1 did the day before sailing. I 
wrote saying that 1 should be absent for some weeks, and 
giving yov\ an idea of why 1 went. 

Bar. Perhaps you wrote also to Laura? 

Art. Certainly I did. Let me see — oh, yes; it all occurs 
to me now. I wrote to Laura at home; mailed the letter on 
my way to the ofilce, and wrote y(ju after airiving there. 

Bar. Neither letter was received by the person for whom 
it was intended. 

Art. Well, this is strange, and looks as though the fates 
Iiad conspired to aid my enemies. Little wonder that the 
believers in my honesty should have felt their faith tremble,, 
and some have given foot-hold to suspicion. 

Bar. This thread, if ecer ■^pua by fate, is broken. It is 
easy to build suspicion; but to form it without exaggeration 
is more difficult. It cannot be possible that these letters and 
your reputation were missing through the same cause? 

Art. Oh, no; it was fickle fortune and a faithless mail that 
robbed you of my letter. We will have no suspicions that 
we cannot justify. But who have we coming this way? 
j^aura and her father. Yes, I know it is. {uioce.s to me'4 them.) 

Bar. Stay, Arthur. This has been less severe on you than 
her. She has borne up well; but she is far from strong, and 
a quick surprise may give you ample cause for repentance. 

Art. 111! Laura? But why have you not told me this? 

Bar. Oh, nothing dangerous; make yourself easy, and 
at the same time scarce. I would not tie you to suspense for 
nothing, nor would I propose you waiting, if I did not think 
it best for her. I will pave your path to her with safety, 
and then leave the rest to you. 



CUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 21 

AtI. But Lee, this seems a wanton waste of time. 

Bar. You hud better go; they are almost here. 

Art. {riwriitg off.) Well, do not be all day about it. 

liar. No; hurry, {Exit AiiTiiuii, l.) 

{Enter Laura and Mr. B., r.) 

Mr. B. All! Mr. Barrett you have returned too late to 
luive the honor of leading our explorations; 1 was tirst chosen, 
hut, wJK'n we came away, the others seemed to have deter- 
mined upon Loril Iletherly as their leader. 

Bar. Undoubtedly the new choice will prove as satisfac- 
tory to them as 1 would have done. But, Miss Laura, you 
have soon grown tired of rural beauties. 

Laura lly no means; but to day I must admit being 
imappreciative. 1 feel strangely nervous and excitable. Do 
you believe in presentiments, Mr. Barrett? 

Bar. (aside) (Capital idea, {to Laura) Oh, implicitly. 

Lai/r(f. 1 feel as though something unusual was going to 
happen, and 1 almost wish that I had remained at home, for 
I am wholly untitled for agreeable society. 

Bar. Does it impress you favorably or otherwise? 

f^aura. It is not sufHciently detinite for me to say. 

Afr B. No, Laura is far from being her usual self, and I 
am at a loss to know what to do for her. I called a physician 
lo prescribe and she proscribed him. It is quite discouraging, 
1 assure you. 

Bar. To be sure I never reached that high degree in 
physic which entitles me to a certificate guaranteeing me a 
<;ompetent person to be entrusted with the extinction of 
human life upon scientific principles, and aimed instead at 
acquiring a knowledge of the tecnicalities of the law; still I 
am prepared to Ireat^Miss. Laura's ailments and to warrant si 
cure, having arrived at an understanding of the case per 
i It Hpe ratio neni. 

Lura. You, Mr. Barrett, a doctor of the clairvoyant 
school? Oh, 1 retain you upon tlie spot. However, there is 
nothing more than a chronic headache upon which to ex- 
ercise your wonderful skill. 

Bar. I have a most thorough understanding of the case; 
I assure you. 

Mr. B. Something more than headache I fancy, my dear. 
So long as the human machine continues to perform its 
functions, we are prone to inattention regarding its needs; 
but when the collapse comes we discover that the application 



23 CUriD vs. CUPIDITY. 

of a little of the oil of care and attention, would have pro- 
longed its usefulness for a considerable period. (Art. shown 
hwuelf to Bar.) 

Bar. {to Laura.) I will now proceed with a diagnosis 
of your case, {takes 7ier wrist.) {aside) Deuce take it; I find 
this is not my forte, and I shall make a bungle yet, in getting 
out of it, I am afraid, {to Laura.) Pulse high, denoting 
fever; your case is one of aggravated hypochondria, super- 
induced by a jcause I need not mention. 

Laura. Oh, do not recall me to my most miserable self, 
my distress of mind, my woe! 

Mr B. I knew as much; I agree with you doctor; but 
what is to be done? What can we do? We know the cause, 
but where is the remedy? {Art. impa.tievJ.) 

Bar. {aside.) Impatience rampant, {to Mr. B.) I shall 
not follow the ordinary rule laid down in the practice ()f 
therapeutics for such cases, which is to blister the neck, 
nor another equally common rule in the application of cura- 
tives which is to confound the patient into convalescence by 
vigor of language in the title of the restorative, although it 
must be admitted that a certain amount ot jargon is essential 
in the treatment of some. However, in this case, I shall follow 
only that mode which will perfect a cure tlie sooner. 

Mr. B. I am afraid there is but one curative for Laura; 
only one. 

Bar. Then we will provide that one, whatever it may be. 

Laura. No, no, it is impossible! llope is dying — dying 
of starvation, for it has nothing to feed upon. It cannot be. 
( Art. demoiistratire. ) 

Bar. {aside.) By Jove he does not know the size of the 
Job I have undertaken, {to Mr. B.) I shall begin by 
feeding hope. The medicine of expectation sometimes ceases 
to act upon the system without assistance. Hope is nour- 
ished from the heart, and while that beats it should live. 
Few things are impossible to man, but to his Maker nothimj 
is. Oftentimes that most wished for comes when least 
expected. 

Jjaiira. {to Bar.) What do you mean? Speak! Have 
you heard from him? Oh, tell me! 

Bar. {aside.) I do not see that I can do any more, {to 
Mr. B.) I have no desire to pain my patient's ears with a 
recital of her requirements before retiring to a normal state. 
However it is your duty to listen and be governed thereby. 
{moves to Exit.) 

Mr. B, But where are 3^ou going? 



CI rn) AS. CUPIDITY. 83 

/>//•. I know a convenient nnchorage close by, a fallen 
tree upholstered in green velvet by those twin workers 
Time and Nature, and tit for an imperial throne. 

Lmini. (to liii,r.) You neem strangely jovial in the face 
of air my pain, and it cannot be without good cause. Oli, 
tell me why it is, for 1 know there must be something; there 
is a (Miange in all you say and do! What have you heardV 

llnr. Another time Miss Laura. Your father has a fath- 
er's love for you — perhaps no stronger than another's, though. 
^'ou see, his features are the features of anxiety, and I must 
not keep him in suspense. He is waiting for me. {iiwvex off.) 
Tliis way Mr. Huntington — Brayton 1 should have said. 

Laura Will yon not speak y 

Har. I am sorry to refuse; but really must. {Exif.y^iUi. 
and B., n.) ' 

{hJiiUr AliTHUK.) 

Laura. How strangely he talked — and acted even stranger, 
(an he have heard from Arthur v But no, I must not build 
a hope, for 1 could not bear to have it shattered. Oh! if it 
were but so, I should go wild with joy. 

Art. Laura! 

Laura. Arthur! Arthur! (* * * * *) 

Art. My darling; and are you glad to see me. 

Laura. Oh! so glad; so very glad. 

Art. And save for the thought that you have suffered, this 
is a heaven of bliss to me, my darling. The pale camelia 
has chased the roses from your cheeks; but they must come 
back my love — they must. 

Laura. And so they will; for already I feel their soft re- 
turning as the new life courses through my veins. To know 
that you are safe and here will l)ring them back again. 

Art. But, Laura, I hear no deamon of distrust break 
forth in angry words. Has he left you in quiet possession 
of 3'our faith? No reproaches — for 1 can bear them for the 
chance of proving them undue. 

Laura. Not one. Distrust and love were nevTr boon 
companions. I loved you and believed in you, and belief 
and love are inseparable. I felt that he whose image I had 
placed within my heart of hearts could not fall so far as to 
forget liiraxelf to become a traitor to his honor and to me. 

Art. xVnd with such an incentive to uprightness he might 
have defied the arch tempter and all his hosts. I relied upon 
your faith, and made it my bulwark against dispair, when 1 



24 curiD vs. curiDny. 

heard of my disgrace. It has withstood the trial by fire, and 
may your reward be in proportion to your deserts. 

Laura. I need no further reward, Arthur, dear — you have 
returned. The sable cloud has burst, showins^ its silver lin- 
ing, and smoothing the darkness into light — making all 
bright again. 

Art. But, my darling, is there no connection between 
your curiosity and your powers of speech y Anotiier would 
have asked a thousand questions ere so much time had pass- 
ed. Are you without the characteristic trait of womankind? 
1 am prepared to hear you call for an explanation. 

Laura. I know you trUl explain, and when the time 
arrives 1 shall be as well prepared as now. Until then I will 
rest contented. 

Art. There has a giievous Mrong been done me; })ut by 
"whom I do not know. I wrote both you and Lee befoie J 
left New York, yet neither had this evidence to oiler in my 
favor. 

Ljaura. Ah!3'ou have seen ISlr. Barrett then. I almost 
knew as much. He could but ill conceal his joy. No, al- 
though we made the post afava the target for much abuse, 
and tired our arrows of angei* at it, it refused the boon we 
asked. 1 knew you must have written. 

Art. There is Utile wondei- that faith and hope should 
falter; if not with you, with others less strong in their good 
will toward me. I sailed upon the 15th, but wrote you 
both upon the 14th. It is strange; the circumstances: their 
fate; the time and all. There maybe something in it after 
all. 

Laura. You think — 

Art. Their loss may not have been blind chance. 

Laura. Oh, no ; could any one be so base — so lost to all 
sense of honor. 

Art. My dear, without this supposition we have the assur- 
ance that the genus honw is queer at best. 

{Enter Bar. a^id B, e.) 

Mr. B. {to Art.) Ah, here he is! My dear boy I am glad 
to see you, yes and rery glad too. Looking well and as 
honest as ever, the Herald to the contrary notwithstanding. 

Art. Yes, and feeling as I look in every respect, I am 
liappy to be able to say. 

Laura. You had a zealous partisan in fatlier, and his voice 
was ever ready in your behalf. 



CUIMI) VS. CrPIDITY. 25 

Art. And bless him for if. too. But here is a trio of my 
>varmest friends; lirm, endurinjr^ and believing to the last. 
There is a Joy in Iookin<; at the pain now past, for it has 
I 'loved true friendship and separated the precious metal from 
I he dross. Believe me I will try and prove myself worthy of 
vour friendship. 

Liixnr {1(> liar.) Ah! you knew tliat he had come, and 
vet you must attempt to work upon my fancy first, then 
leave me to my doubts. 

I>(it\ Their stay could have been but momentary tlien, 
besides I did not care to tell you all, for that would have 
spoiled th(? good etiect I was laboring to produce. 

Art. He would insist that your condition was such that 
something introiluctoiy from him was needed. 

Laura, (fa Bar.) How could you, Mr. BarretA? 

Itar. To err in judgment is a common fault, but really 
the intent was good. 

Mr. B. 1 thought I saw the drift of ^'■our conversation 
and agreed with you, althcmgh now 1 suppose we may 
ipiestion the precaution with iuii)unit3'. 

Lrfara. (la Bar.) However, your star has risen in the 
(irnianient of medicine, and as a model Esculapian so may 
you become known to sutlering humanity. 

liar. Thank you, but by {»assing adverse sentence on my 
jnilgmcnt before recommending my skill, you have quashed 
.ill desire for honor in the medical profession, and 1 shall 
retire from practice forthwith. 

Mr. J). Ah, here c(jme the wanderers. 

Art. And with them (tomes 

Laura. The annoyan(;e will be but short lived I am sure. 

Bar. Be a Spartan in endurance old fellow, it will soon 
be over with. 

{Enter Party, r.) 

Edith. Why, Mr. Huntington! I am all astonishment! 
Returned after all? 

Alice. And what a surprise. When did you arrive, and 
liow long have you been here? 

Art. I reached the Branch this forenoon and came here 
shortly afterwards. 

Edith. With Mr. Barrett? Oh, ycM. /Well I am real glad 
to see you. {anide) I suppose it is proper to say so anyway. 

Alice. Yes, Mr. Huntington I am sure we all are. {adde) 
And my lord in particular. He will hardly find the oppor- 
tunity for being as attentive to Laura as he has been. 



2(j CUVID vs. CUriDITY. 

3[rs. B. (rmde.) That man here! 

Art. Mrs. Brayton I trust i/ou will not refuse me a welcome ; 
I sincerely hope not. {extending 7iand.) 

Airs. B. Excuse me, sir. Laura, come here, {to Art.) 
Had your absence the excuse of a cause, and had j^ou beexi 
governed during it by the rules of common decency 

Laura. Mercy, mother; mercy upon yourself ! 

Mrs. B. Had you returned to us with an unsullied 
name 

Art. Mrs. Brayton 

Mr. B. You are forgetting your dignify as a woman 
Eleanor! Be sure that you are not laying by cause for 
repentance. 

JSdiiJi. {aside.) How very vulgar; but she is right no doubt. 

Mrs. B. Had you returned to us in the manner I havo 
named then would be time enough to expect a welcome; as 
it is 

Laura, {to Mrs. B.) Have a care, have a care what you 
say for sorrow is sure to follow a harsh an<l loo hasi\ 
judgment. 

Alice, {aside) How shockingly savnge she is, but if rr- 
quires only half an eye to see what she is aiming at. {meanirt'i 
lletlwrly.) 

Mrs. B. There is a penalty attached to the violation of 
every law of every system, and uj>()n what ground do you 
claim exemption ? You liave no one to thank but yourself 
If the penalty which you are made to sufl<er is a .severe our, 
for it wall be but in proportion to the violation. 

Lord H. {aside.) The poison reached her vitals, at all 
events. 

Bar. (to Mrs. B.) We are prepared, if you will pardon 
my interferance, to refute this cahimny in toto, since it is 
without the slightest ground upon which to stand. 

Mrs. B. I do not pardon your interference, sir; we-, j^ou 
say — we were not accused. 

Bar. {aside.) The old devil does not want to know the 
truth, I guess. 

Mrs. B. Edward, we will go at once. Laura, no doubt 
Lord Hetherly is ready to start with us. 

Lord U. Certainly, at any time. 

Laura. I trust Lord Hetherly will pardon me; but I shall 
return with Arthur. 

Art. {aside to Laura.) Bless you, my darling, 

Edith, {aside.) Well, did you ever. 

Alice, {aside indieaiing Edith.) And now, I suppose, that 



nri!) vs. curmiTT. 27 

!)arlmrou>lv iinpiulcnt thitii^ will try and force herself upon 
f,(»r<l lleflK-rly. 

Wru. li. What do T lioar; in the face of all that has 
lion spired, and in opposition to my wishes? 

Linira. In the face of the injustice committed here, and 
ill the face of all committed «'lsewhcre. 

Mix. li. V appeal to tfoii, Mr. irunting:t()n. lint no, a man 
devoid ol honor could riMuhM- but sorry assistance. 

Hor. {ti.xiih .) Wlial an old devil she is. 

Mr. li. There, KIcanor, patience has lonji; since ceased to 
lu' a virlu«'. Vou will at least try to respect those rules.of 
decency whose neglect you seem so anxious to mark in the 
conduct of others. 

Mrs. Ji. liaura, I (•f)mman<l you to return with Lord Heth- 
eily, as y«)n canu-; I am y()ur mother, and ^cill be oheyrd. 

Lniira. I have stated my resolve, and to it I mtist adhere; 
Utit. oh, nu)ther, do he less crnel. 

lA/v. li. This is loo nnuli Edward, will you not speak 
*o her? F^aura, will you do as I bid yon? 

I.ifiirii. Mother, Irnn/iof. 1 cannot do this wrong to help 
another ')ne. No! no! T cannot. 

,\fri<. /.'. Them 1 ri'iiinnire you. 

Mr. li. Hut I do not my dau«;htei*. 

r.iinra. 1 am his atlianced wife, aJid to him will prove my 
faith in this his hour of atHictioti. His honor is my own, 
and shall I forsake my trust when the hour of trial is at hand. 
N'o! no! And though all the world was arra3^ed a*;ainst him 
•iiy faith shoukl keep n»e where 1 am, by his si^le, when most 
|ny aid is felt anil needed. 

Mr. li. Nobly said and rightly said, n>y daughter. 

Art. {amh to Laura.) My darling, my own. ( * -* * -' ) 

Lord H. {ashk) An e.vceedingly anti-exhilerating episode, 
all around. 

CuiiTAiv IJklt.. 

ACT. III. 

Sr'ENK 1. — Room in BorretCs Villa — A table cmered ici/h 
aiagazliieif and papers — Hook cane — Clock on mantel — Wn'h'wj 
desk — Easy chairs, d-c. — Barrett, seated. 

Bar. Tt i.s strange how powerful, how penetrating, and how 
ditlicult to wash from otlthe mind the poison of a slanderoun 
tongue is; and strange it is how rapidly the venom course>» 
through the mind, stupifying reason and benumbing coasci 



28 curiD vs. curirnTY. 

ence in its way. But stranger still, liow few there are in tliis en- 
lightened nineteenth century who appear to know the antidote 
or cure therefor — the Golden Rule. It is seared into our 
brains in cliildhood; but the spot lieals over and grows 
callous as w^e grow in years, and soon outgrows all recollection 
sometimes recalled by conscieu<;e-, but only to be again for- 
gotten. The towers of human wisdom all have the lean of 
Pisa's to them; being all fundamentally weak, they are blown 
from off the line of perpendicular by the winds of passion 
and prejudice, and from models of symmetry and reason 
ihey become models of distortion and unreason. The mind, 
like wax to receive an impression is marble to retain it, and 
when once the surface has been marred by wrong, no ordi- 
nary cleansing will remove the stain. We are told that the 
world grows better as it grows in years; if so what an atmos- 
))here of sin there must have been a few years since. Mr.«. 
lirayton whom I would have credited with a reasonable desire 
for justice, and with a fair understanding of right has proven 
beyond all question the unreliability of human judgment. 
The credit WM)uld have been wrongly bestowed. 8he dis- 
l>layed a most sublime contempt for anything like justice in 
her tirade against Arthur the other day, and rattled away in her 
auger like a cotlee-mill gun, and just about as agreeably. (J)h ! 
woman, woman, that you might collect the motive power of 
your tongue, and use it in some usefulness; become the well- 
spring of man's joys, and not the fountain liead of all his 
follies, ('ease to be the author of his sins and sorrows; blot 
out your record and begin anew. 

{Enter AiiTiiUR, i>. f.) 

Art. Hello, old fellow! I announce myself, you see. 
Have I permission to come in, or do I break into an agreeable 
line of thought? 

Bar. Ojrae in; most certainly, at all times and under all 
circumstances. However, you have disturbed me, and in the 
midst of a very difUcult undertaking this time; but 1 forgive 
you. I was endeavoring — in my mind only — to reconcile 
woman with morality, or rather cogitating upon wdiat a 
glorious combination they might make if they could but 
combine. 

Art. And do you find them so adverse to admixture? I 
hope not. 

Bar. Normally antagonistic. Oil and w^ater. Of course 
It grieves me to be forced to this conclusion, but woman 



crrii) vs. ci rmiTY. 29 

liolds fast i() Ikt itlonllly as woman, witli all her proverbial 
failiiij2;s. 1 suppose you admit it to bo man's prerogative to 
discuss tbe wcakntissesof tbe weaker sex, and more especiall}"^ 
is il the rii!;l»f of ba<'helorliood, for witli this class is the 
tipinion less likely to be biased. 

.1/7. Tlicre you are wroii^, at all events. T would place 
little icliance upon the o|)inion of the class you name, for 
wiili it the juil^merit would be most partial. It is a league 
of |)scud») woman-haters — 1 si)eak of the accepted type of the; 
s|»ecies, renuMuber, who livcin a state of churlish celcbacy, 
l»y virtue of necessity, yet striving to make necessity appear 
a virtuous (choice. It is the old story of the fo\ and the grapes 
<»\er again, and the opinion of the fo.v in this case is about 
as relial.tle as was that of the fox of ^Esop. 

Her. ]{r,ally, my dear IVllow, you are unkind towards thi<^ 
unfortunate and much-t()-l)e-|)itied claSvS of humanity, and I 
shall discdaim all right to make a personal application of 
your remarks. 

Art. Do so — for they are in no wise applicable. But, 
honestly, I think government shoidd look upon this class, 
together with their parallels in wt)manhood, as being in a con- 
stant state of passive belligerancy against other people more 
fortunate than themselves, and assign them aland reservation, 
say Arizona or New Mexico, where they ntay in time becom«^ 
cured of tlieir distemper, and become useful if not orna 
ujcntal members of society. Treat them as we do poor Lo. 

Bar. Oh, now you are becoming unjustly severe, and I 
will change the subject for something of more importance to 
«is than the creeds or whims of bachelor-hood or old-maiden- 
hood. 

Art. Is it anything which will require much time, for it. 
is now ahno.st three, and I this morning received a note from 
Laura saying to call at that hour; which, translated for your 
benefit, means that Mrs. B. has consented to render judgment 
upon my case after more approved style than she saw lit to 
udopt day before yesterday at the Dell. 

Bar. lias had a relapse of sense? Good for her. 

Art. I have not seen Laura since we returned home 
together that day. I knew that the paioxysm of anger 
which seized her mother could be but temporary, and that it. 
must pass otr as soon as the truth became known or estab 
lished, therefore I determined to remain away until it did. 
I have hopes that that time has now arrived, and I want you 
should go with me. 

Bar. I! And wherefore? I can do no good that lean 



30 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

see — and besides I might again offer an unpardonable inter- 
ference witliout intending it as such ; my memory is quite 
fresh as to the qmetus I received for my first attempt. How- 
ever, if it is really your wish that I should, I will again lay 
myself liable, and go with you. 

Art. Certainly I desire that you should go with me, and 
it is now almost time we we were starting; but what was that 
something you intended telling V— and pardon my inter- 
ruption. 

Bar. There was a gentleman here this morning from New 
York, to whom I wanted to introduce you. He called and 
promised to return after dinner, so I suppose he will be hei«> 
shortly. 

Art. Some friend of yours? I shall be glad to know him, 
I am sure. Do I knx)w him by name:-' 

Bar. His name is Murchison; I hardly think you ever 
heard of him. 

Art. Murchison! No, I have no recollection of thenam«>,. 
Who is he ? 

Bar. I will tell you presently, but T must preface the 
information by first telling you why I desire lie sliould meet, 
you and what my connection with him is. Firstly, my 
relations with him are purely business. T have been r* - 
Yolving matters concerning }ouand your recent experien(»' 
about in my mind, and, although they present a woeful chaos 
to me, I woidd not wonder but a master hand, one accus- 
tomed to untangling such things, might unravel this affair, 
and out of the jumble weave an interesting story. AVe have a 
groundwork of suspicion upon which to build. 

Art. Little could be done if the truth were known, I fancy. 
If Snaggett is the moving spirit I have small desire to know 
it. He is beneath the trouble of an anxious or an angry 
thought. 

Bar. You say that Snaggett would rather be man than 
master, and who* knows but larger fish than he may drop into 
our net. To be sure the chances seem small, but I believe it 
worth an effort. 

Art. I can see no reason for believeing so. I can see no 
reason in any one but him for simulating a cause for malice. 
He revenged himself on me for his own shortcomings. I 
count upon few enemies, and fewer of his class. I have 
small desire to join so unpromising a chase. 

Bar. Well, I must confess that I am more curious than 
you seem to be. The knowledge, when once it is acquired, 
may ill repay the trouble taken ; but you have warned me of 



CUl'ID VS. ClITDITY, 31 

lUis daiiiier, and fon-warned is forearmed, you know. 

Arf. Very well; l)ut for the -rood repute'of huinaii nature, 
T trust you may be disap|ioluted. A pair of rogues like this 
(»ue would be just one pair too many. 

B"r. (Jranied, with all my heart. Now, Murchison is a 
capital hand in just such cases as these. The bri*?htest star 
in flu; tirmameni in which he moves, and is a thoroughly 
reliable man to trust witii the work of unravelling this thing. 

Arf. Seemingly you have taken hold very much in earnest. 
i\[urchison is a detective, then, is he? 

/i'lr. Ves, and from this time out we will take charge of 
art'airs; and unless he strikes a richer lead of villainy than 
you tliink possible, you sliall liear no more about it, e\cei)t 
at your <jwn request. We will stand the brunt of disap- 
pointment if it Conu;s. 

{Kitter James.) 

»/</w. {Gicing Bar. mrd.) TJie gentleman who was here 
a time-ago, sir. 

A'"/-. Oh! it is 3Iurchison. Ves, .show him in James. 

(K.rii J omt».) 

Arf. I hope you have not forgotten our engagement, it 
Is n(»w about time we were there. With all due respecrfor 
your vibittjr 

Jit/r. Who will not delay our starting in the least. 

( En fer M uitcHisoN. ) 

Murchison, y(m are just in time. Let nie introduce you to 
Mr. HutJtington, Mr. Murchison. 

Murch. Am glad to know you, sir. 

Art. And I you, sir; although sorry to have professional 
dealings with you. 

\furch. No occasion to be sorr}-, sir; no occasion, I 
promise 

Arf, I hope so, I am sure. 

liar. He has only learned the alphabet to tin; manifold 
ini(piities of the world, Mr. Murchison, and because of your 
])rofessi(»n looks to tind in you a masculine Tandora, witJi 
your box of ills open for distribution. 

.\furcA. He will tind me no bad man. I am sure, and it is 
jiLst these same Pandoras that I'm after. 

Art. {to Bar.) Come Lee, it is growing late. 

Ji(ir. (to March.) You came most opportunely, for we 
have an engagement for this afternoon which will re(iuirc 



H3 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY, 

our startinf^ at once. Of course, you are ready to coniiiieucc 
operations as soon as you are put in possession of some clu*- 
upon which to commence tlie building of your edifice, and 
if you will have the goodness lo aocompan}'' us a portion of 
the way you shall havo our susi)ieions, togetlier with our 
reasons for having them. 

Murch. Oh, certainly, gentlemen; do not let me detain 
you. >Vhat will serve you will be agreeal)le lo me. 

Bar. Punctuality is a > irtue, I take it, and therefore eaii- 
not be cultivated too highly, you know. 

Art. Then we will be oil' at one*;. {Ej:U all, d. f.) 

SCEJs^K 2. — Woodland Flats — Kaler LoiiO li. & Sxag. 

Lord: If. That was a devlish unfortunate encounter just 
now. Do you suppose they heard anything we ^aid? 1 hope 
not, by Jove. 

Sfiaff. No! and it would have been Greek to them if they 
had, 1 guess. I hardly tli ink th^re is an}' danger, if we are 
at all careful, for I heard Huntington say to Barret, ''That 
iIh! quarry was not worth the chase, and that he was(;ontent 
to leave the villain or villains to iheir consciences," which I 
think you will agree is very kind of hijn: That he was back 
:in(ii would strive to forget his troubles rather than keep thent 
in mind. 

Lord fl. Yes, I am sure we appreciate his wisdom and 
goodness. But he seems to think there may be more thaii 
one interested in this business? 

Sfiaff. So it would seem; but then that is nothing un- 
natural to suppose. 

Lord 11. Well, I jiresunie I may as well consider my case 
as settled with reference to the 3'^oung lady of whom we 
were speaking. 

Siiag. Yes, I guess so. Your goose is cooked; but your 
ev-prospective ma-ma — what of her? 

Lord.. IL Ex-prospective devil. Cut her; but then she is 
n good one as far as she goes. Her tongue is sharper than a 
tvvo-edged sword, when she chooses to make it so. If Hunt- 
ington did not have more than ordinar}^ courage 

]Hnag. Or was not dead gone on the daughter. 

Lord II. Yes; he would consult his future peace of mind 
and safety, and cast about for a more agreeable mother-in- 
law. You should have heard the way in which she hauled 
him over the coals at the Dell that day. 

Snag. Pulverized him, I suppose. 



curii) vs. currniTY. 33 

L >rd 11. Y«;s; but. the <;irl showed nerve, and stayed by 
biiu tlirough il hII— and in tact after it was all over, uiucli to 
my disoonifiliue, for 1 IikI taken her there — and she was so 
tiriu in her refusal to leave Huntington — and of course I 
rould say nothing — that 1 cjune home alone. But now that 

I lie real faeis in th(M;ase liave come to light, I suppose Mrs. 
liiayton will wliirl al>out like u weathercock. Will see than 
vvlic saw him in a false light; will apologi/.e for that scene, 
ami l)«M:',<)me as warm as !5he was cold. 

Snug. \ siippo.>^e so — .-ce-saw, freeze and thaw — there is 

II )thing so sure a giiarJ against inactivity of mind as a 
mo)hei-\n-law. You must have come to the conclusion by 
this tinx; that eel fishing is devilishly unreliable, either as 
l)u«^iness or sport. When you have one, and are ready to 
swear to it, you tind that you have lost your hold, and are 
forced to com;lude that iiatural history was right when il 
railed him a slippery cuss. The harder you hold, the less 
you hold. There is no use in talking, it is unsatisfactory to 
make the b"st of it, for you can never catch the knack of 
doing it just right. 

Lord 11. Yes, and when a fellow has a sure thing 

StuKj. There is nothing sure in this world but death and 
taxation. 

Lord H. W^ell, when a fellow has reasonable expecta-^ 
tions, his wisest courj^e is to hold to them, I think. 

Siing. Undoubtedly. 1 suppose I need not repeat to you. 
the old proverb relative to the value of the bird in hand? 

Lord. H. No, it is not necessary. AVhen I came to the 
Branch it was a toss up between Atherstone and Ilchester. 
1 could have had either of them on a month's notice, I fancy; 
hut one is old and tough, while the other is young and soft; 
still both, from a pecuniary point of view, are desirable. 

Stiag. W>.ll, do you propose continuing a brother of the 
Angle, and fish for your lost place in their affections? Wal 
ton says angling is like poetry, and a successful angler must 
be borne to it. Perhaps you were; but this is your final 
chance, and if you .angle carelessly you cannot expect to 
catch anything. 

Lord Li. Cut your preaching until you take a degree, for 
I shall endeavor to recover my lost ground without it. Con- 
sidering all the circumstances, I think the Atherstone the 
more promising subject of the two named. 

Snag. The proper development of a severe case of aflec- 
tion is sometimes a long process, and you will have to take 
time by the forelock if you expect to do anything this sea- 
son — that is, if you expect to reach the crisis, 1 mean. 



34 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

Lord II. Never fear for that. Five seasons of disappoint- 
ment, and the mouldy influence of over a quarter of a cen- 
tury are very apt to rob a woman — not only of her beauty — 
but of all her skittishness. 

Siutg. Yes, I should think she would be apt to hanker for 
the matrimonial harness then, if ever. Instead of x)ining for 
liberty, she aches to tie herself to somebod}' — she withers to 
become somebody else. 

Lord II. She does. She sees the imperative need of dis- 
posing of herself, and stickles less about such minor matters 
as time, place, condition, or person. She loses sight of all 
else but the grand diskleratum which is to get rid of Jierself. 

Snag. Then in lieu of the fair Laura, you will content 
yourself with the less fair and fustly-fading Alice; or if there 
chance to come a hitch, with the daughter of the House of 
Atherstone; then to the House of Jlchester you will addre.^s 
yourself. There is nothing like Jiaving an extra iron in th<; 
fire. I suppose you have not counted on failure. 

Lord H. Well, no; I had not. But come, I have some- 
thing more interesting to do than stand here. Do you go my 
way? 

Stiag. I icill. Proceed. [Exit.) 

Scene 3. — Same as sceiu in Jrf 1~Pre.scnt Laura, Edith 
avd Ajjce. 

Alice. But, do go, Laura dear; we really wish you would; 
and you will certainly regret it if you do not. 

Edith. Yes, do go. Mrs. Delvan's lawn receptions, as 
she terms them, are so charming, and then she is such a love 
of a body herself, and displays such excellant taste in every- 
thing. You are sure to meet the most agreeable people at 
the Branch, and are ecjually sure to htive the best time possi- 
ble. Do change j'^our mind. 

Alice. Yes,"do Laura; there is a dear. There will be but 
a well chosen few of those horrid men, and ever^'thing 
promises well. 

Laura. I thank you just the same; but really I cannot go, 
for I have already mortgaged my time for this afternoon, and 
must remain at home to meet the engagement. 

Ldifh. Oh, surely; I had quite forgotten that Arthur had 
returned. Oh, well, of course you cannot go. We will tell 
you all about it when we return, which I suppose will answer 
as well. 

Alice. Among other things there is to be a trial of skill at 



CCPII) vs. ni'IDTTY. biJ 

•Toqnot, with f.ord IIcdKrrly at the head of one of the con- 
trndini; forces. 

Kdiih. Yes, and has (diosen me to be his aid de camp. 

AUW. {amk) The forward thintJ:. I lieard her ask him 
to. (fo Lmi.rn.) It is ;in a^ominaldy stupid game to me, and 
1 never could discover in wh;i» the .sport consisted. Certainly 
not in the buck-l)reakini^ exerci.se recommended in the rules. 
Ir mi-^ht do for ciiildren. 

Ld'trn. You hiive ;i wronii- idea of the g;amc. It is not 
the game itself, but the o()portunity for something else which 
if atiords, that is pleasant. I am sure you will have a pleas- 
ant time, and [ wish you all liie joy imaginable. 

Edith. Oh, by-the-hye. Of course you saw the Herald of 
yesterday, an:l in it that article referring to Mr. Huntington? 

Laura. I did; and now that the trutli is becondng known, 
T suppose the cloud <d' suspicion is fast dissolving. Some 
one has a dreatlful wrong t(j answer for. 

Alict. Has he any idea to whom his thanks are due for it? 
S»me imiti, ot course. What an altomniable beast a man can' 
be. 

Elith. Shame upon you Alice; bower';?. you talk s,o.{aMdt.) 
Poor thing! I d(m't much wonder she is bitter. 

Laura. I think he half suspettts to whom he is indebted; 
but says that if it is the one he thinks, he will take no further 
action in Tlie matter — but leave the villain to his conscience. 

AUrc. I would hunt liim out. ]\)h! talk of man's con- 
s<;ience, I doubt his ever having had one; but if he did, he 
must have lost it with the rib that njade the woman. I never 
knevv a man yet, who had a semblance of one. It is light 
punishment to leave a man to his own conscience, I assuie 
you. 

Laura.. Oli! Alice. You make the application too gen- 
*rral — even if it deserves Hi)plication at all — of which I hav«: 
my doubts. No (me is without a conscience, however hard- 
»'ned it may have grown with usage. 

Ediih. \Vell, that certainly was a most unconscionable 
piece of business, and must have requinul a very easy con- 
science to have allowed it. Still let us hope all grace is not 
lost upon the men, and if evil they are, they must be classed 
among the necessary ones. 

Alice. Naughty; but nice, I suppose. An abominably 
unsatisfactory set, which ever way you take Ihem. I don't 
know, but I think if I had been present at the Creation I 
might have suggested something better than the apology for 
the name now in use. 



36 CUPID vs. crriDiTY. 

Edith, {aside.) She is almost old enougyi to have been 
tliere. {to Alice.) Why, Alice how can you talk so! I am 
surprised at 3'^ou! But we had better be going. I am sorry 
you will not go with us Laura. 

Laura. I will think of 3'our enjoyment, and take my own. 
therefrom. 

Edith. Well, good-bye, dear. 

Alice. Yes, good-bye, and remember you owe me a vi.si',. 

Laura. I will; good-byi?. {Exit K'andA, D. f) How 
time does sour ones disposition; but no, it must he niorw 
ihan time, it must be disappointment. Uniroubled time 
liews away the rough uneavenness of temper, fostering love 
in heart and faith in soul. When disappointment comes 
it steeps the heart in gall and paints distrust upon the soul. 
Poor Alice, she wants to make herself believe the world 
is a maze of sin, and so it is; but she forgets there is a thread 
of gold to guide each wanderer safely through. It must b«> 
almost time for Arthur t<j be here. Thank Heaven his trials 
and mine will soon be over. For his are mine, and then 

{Enter Brayton, d. f.) 

Mr. B. What, alone, Laura? 

Laura,. Yes, but I have not been so long, nor do I hope 
to remain so. It is quite time that Arthur was here. 

Mr. B. IIow is your motJier feeling? Belter I liope. 

Ljaura. Yes, much better, 1 believe. 1 knew^ she would 
retrace the hasty step she had taken so fraught with sorrow 
for us all, and soon all will again be well. This pain, a dying 
recollection of the past with nothing to bring it back to life, 
T trust. Oh! father, I feel as if the sun was brighter, the 
air purer 

Mr. B. And the truth stronger. Yes, even against the 
pow^er of will the truth must prevail, {moves toward Exit.) 

Laura. When Arthur couxes, will you bring her here? I 
wish you would. 

Mr B. I will, my dear. {Exit l. d.) 

J^mrd. Poor mother! The path is now made clear to 
reparation, and painful though it be, it is the only one where 
justice lights the way. 1 wonder why he does not come. 

{Enter Sarah, r. d.) 

Well, Sarah; what is it? 
Sarah. I have some letters for you, Miss. 
La/iira. For me? Wb}- the mail has not arrivedj Las it? 



CUl'll) V8. CUPIDITY. 37 

S'ir,(^i. 1 (l.)ii't know, ^Mi.sv; but these letters did not come 
by mail. 

L<(nni. Not come l)y mail! Then how did they come, 
;i iKl -.vhere did you j^el them ? U<(/,-eH letter.^. ) Arthur's writing. 
What ! Opened— and one is addressed to Mr. Barrett! What 
does this nieany Kxphiin where you got tliem. 

Stint/i. Yes, Miss. Well, you .see they changed thai 
.l-ii<i:li>hiiKurs — ■ 

Liinni. Whom do you mcany 

Sonth. Lord soni(l)ody 

L<i>ii;i. I^ord Iletherly:-' 

S,(i;ih. Yes, Miss. VVcll they changed his room to-dav 
and one of tlie girls found llH;se letters in the dressing case 
idler he was moved. 

Lidtnt. In Lord llelhcrly's room; are you sure? 

Stinili. Y(!S, Miss; ([uite sur(;. 

Liani. What is this, July 14th— Xew Y'ork. As I live 
tliey are the letters writtt^n by Arthur prior to his going away. 
<jo on Sarah; go on, what else? 

S,(r((/i. ^Vell, she got me to read the names on the en- 
velopes, and I told her to give them to you, and if it was not 
all right you would give them to Lord what's-his-name. 

Laura.. Quite right in you. I will attend to it; you may 

,g<> but Slay: We may l)e wrong after all. Go tind how 

long Lord Iletherly had occupied the rooms wherein these 
were found. {Exit Sarah, r. d.) A complex climax surely. 
A combination of noble lord, petty pilferer and conspirator 
against a man's honor, peace of mind, and reputation. Ko! 
no! It is is too improbable; and yet, the holder of these 
letters witliiield plain proof against this calumn\^ and if it be 
not he who stole them, how came he in possession of them!^ 
True, he may have had a confederate, but it makes him none 
the less criudnal. One has the ai)pearance of having passed 
through the mail, while the other does not; still this may 
indicate nothing strange. Y>t, Arthur says that both were 
written and mailed upon the same day. Oh! If I but knew 
the truth of all this roguery. 

{Enter Sarah it.) 

Y'es, Sarah, speak out! 

Sarah. Yes, Miss. lie has had the rooms since the season 
commenced. 

Laura. Then he must have been a party to the theft. 
{to Sarah.) You may go. {Exit Saiiau.) How can a man 



do CUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 

degrade himself to a level beneath the brute, however stronc^ 
may be his purpose. And such a man— one to all appearance 
iionest, who had succeeded in making himself an object of 
regard to many who seemed to never tire of talking of his 
merits. And now this honesty of his turns out to be a mask — 
H veil to hide corruption with. I cannot discern his object; 
but whatever it may be it must be most discreditable. Me- 
thinks a man but threw removes from kingship might better 
use his time and talents. Oh, if I could but pull the visor 
from this Janus. Sometimes a whole is judged by sample, 
and why not this. Ini poster in one — im poster in all things. 
[ shall judge him so until I prove the judgment wrong liut 
how am I to do so, and where to ninke the start. I will try 
and study up a way. 

{Enter Baijuett and Artiiuii.) 

Arthur!— Mr. Barrett. 

Art. My darling! (*****) 

Laura. But — Mr. Barrett, dear! 

Bar. Oh! never mind me; for 1 can be near sighted when 
occasion requires, and besides, 1 am a uort of—well — a sorf, 
of brother, you know. 

Laura. Be seated gentlemen, and I jnust remind you thai 
you are somewhat tardy. 

Art. So we are, a tritle; but as it was, we were forced to 
S)ring a visitor with us as far as the door in order that we 
might be prompt; and at the same time afTordhim the gratiti- 
cation of our company as long as possible. 

Bar. Arthur stared my time-keeper clear out of counte- 
nance in the effort to be punctual, and as I permitted it with- 
out a murmur, I know^ you will not withhold pardon from 
either of us. 

Ljaura. I have not the heart to do so, I assure you; but 
still I had the right to be impatient, you must acknowledge. 

Bar. To be sure you had; but failed to exercise it, I hope. 

Ljaura. To tell the truth, however impolite, I did. 

Art. And was therefore tardy in thinking of our tardiness. 
I question if this be complimentary. 

Bar. The truth is not always complimentary; nor should 
we expect it to be. 

Laura. Before you came I received two letters of vast 
importance wherein you both were mentioned, and in the 
study of their contents, or rather in the perusal of one, for 
the other I have not read. I took but little note of lime. Of 



CUITI) VS. CUIMDITY. 89 

vV)ursei you are witnout curiosity to know more, nnd I really 
hope so, lor I only tell you this nuieh byway of excuse, and 
have no idea of i!:ivin^^ further information, at present, any 
v>ay. 

Art. I do protest that this is liardly fair; to raise our 
curiosity, and then refuse to satisfy it. 

h'<ir. The law takes cogni'/ance of cruelty to animals, 
Hierefore, take care. 

Laura. Dull wines improve with ajre and gain a sparkle. 
Phis will do the same 1 liope— at least' I think it worth Uu; 
'rial; but if the hope proves groundless, I will tell you all; 
Hierefore, in either ease, you lose n()fhing. 

lixr. Except the time; but how are we to know when this 
discl(»su?-e will be made? 

.VrL You had ])etter uive a note of hand made payable w iiU 
the information; it will keep the recollection clear — besides 
Insure the payment of the debt. 

Lii.in'd. Trust me, and I will see that it is not forgotten; 
but if it should be by yoti, I will refresh your memory when 
I lie proper time arrives. Until I do, you must not ask to 
know. Vour promises. 

.Xrt. 1 pnunise. Although T. do so under protest. 

Bur. And I. But with a feeling tinctured with curiosity. 

Laura. There is no redress. I am sorry, but it must be so. 

{Enter Mus. and Mk. I>., l. t>.) 

Mr. B. {Shaking htiuU with Art. <& Bar.) 1 am glad to 
see you Arthur — and you Mr. Barrett. I hope you are well. 

Art. Thank you. 

Bar. About as usual — which means well; thank you. 

Mr!<. B. {coldly.) (Jood afternoon, gentlemen. 

Art. (.{' Bar. Good afternoon. 

lir'r. {aside ) Her apparent condition of mind warns me 
to keep quiet, I imagine. But then I must say something. 
ifo Mr. B.) This is delightful weather we are having, {asidr.) 
The subject is a trifle stale, perhaps. 

Mr. B. Yes; perfectly glorious. No better could be 
wished for. 

Laura, {to Mn*. B.) Here is a seat much more comfort- 
able than that. Will you not have it. 

Mrs. B. Thank you; but I will sit where I am. 

Bar. {anide.) She is in glorious condition to attend a 
funeral. 



40 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

Mr. B. 1 suppose Arllmr, you liear from your mother 
quite regularly. Is she still upon the continent? 

Art. She and sister Clara are now in England. 1 hear 
from them every week or two. 

Laura. Do you experience no diiliculty in corresponding 
with them when they are so constantly upon the move. 1 
should imagine j'ou would. 

Art. Oh, no; and besides, for some time past they have 
been staying at Warncliffe, the residen<:e of an uncle, so th;ji 
the difficulty of hearing from and being heard by them is 
nothing, 

Bar. I think you told me tluit Warncliffe was in Kent.* 
If my memory is not at fault, it is in Kent that Lord Heth 
erly lives, or did live. 

Art. Indeed! I had not heard as much; but then )uy 
having been away may account for it. 

La.ura. {a.nde.) Why may not this assist me. {to Art.) 
In Kent, 3'^ou say, at Warnclitle. Rochester is in Kent, I Uiink, 
also. I was not aware that you laid claims to relatives 
abroad. 

Art. Oh, yes; but the stock is limited to the one referrcMl 
to, I believe, Sir John Wliitehurst, my mother's uncle — ihere 
fore mine. Rochester is the post-town to which ni}' mother 
looks for tidings from her son, as Warnclifte is but little dis- 
tance therefrom. 

Laura, (aside.) This seems to be the very chancel would 
have asked, (to Mrs. B.) Are you feeling better, mother; 

3frs. B. I believe so, daughter. Mr. Huntington, wc 
meet here by agreement; do we not? You to explain away 
the stigma cast upon your name, and I — to listen. 

Art. Such, madam, I understand to be the case. Ko one 
disputes my right of clearance, now, I think. I have borne 
a sad and sony burden without the .semblance of a cause in 
reason. 

Mrs. B. 80 it seems — so it seems. But since we are here 
we will listen to your story. But be pleased to make it brief 
on my account. 

Art. Be assurred of that, then to begin : Upon the 10th of 
last month, I left here for home in response to a telegram 
asking for my ifnmediate presence there. Upon arriving in 
New York I found myself assigned an undertaking, both 
significant and dangerous, consisting of a trip to Cuba in 
the interest of — or rather for the purpose of holding direct 
communication with the insurgent government. Our firm 
had for some time previous been acting as agents for the pur- 



curiD vs. crriDiTY. 41 

chase of nuinltions of w!ir, and liad also had under consid- 
eration plans for the issuing and sale of Cuban bonds, the 
negotiation of a loan, and other matters pertaining to the 
financial interests of tlie Cuban cause. Through the action, 
of over zealous symi)ati)izers with the cause, and during the 
absjtice of the authorized agent of the government, a mis- 
understanding arose regarding a matter then in hand, and 
we felt it necessary to have the direct assurance of the gov- 
ernment before proceeding further, that it would recognize 
itself a i)arty to tlie contract. Out of this necessity arose my 
journey An arrangement had been made whereby the 
dilliculty might be solved without going beyond Havana — 
although the risk incurrrd was quite as great, and the penalty 
of discovery would have been death. 

Lanra. No! no! Not death!! 

Hni\ Oh! yes; that is the !:?apnish panacea for all poor 
Cuba's troubles. The Spaniard believes in a bloody creed, 
and lives up to his faith when he can find the slightest pre- 
text for doing so But proceed. 

Alt. We are overrun with spies, paid with Spanish gold, 
who divide their time between hunting up new victims, and 
covering up the marks of cruelty to the old ones, and for my 
destination to have become known, would have insured me 
a far from pleasant reception when I reached it. Therefore 
everything was conducted with the greatest possible secrecy. 
I sailed for Havana in the Moro Castle on the 15th. As for 
tlie slander which was published after my departure, and 
accepted as the truth by some, I pronounce it utterly false. 
After its publication, my friends were in a quandar3% If 
they denounced it as false they would have had to stale my 
whereabouts in order to give strength to the denial. Further- 
more the part we have already taken in this cause had be- 
come in a measure knowm, and to have the matter dragged 
in as a subject of controversy, might awaken a suspicion as 
to the true cause of absence, and the result be far from desi- 
rable. They determined to let the wrong impression be 
adopted rather than bring me into danger, and to contide the 
truth to no one — and even to Lee, whom they did not know as 
well as 1 do, they told nothing — concluding to await my re- 
turn. However, a copy of the article reached me while in 
Havana. This concludes my story, and of you, Mrs. Brayton, 
I ask but simple justice. 

Bav. {(tfiide.) The court, will now proceed to pass sentence. 

Mr. B. ((isidc to Mih. B.) Do, Eleanor, make some re- 
paration for the harshness of your earlier judgment. 



43 CUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 

Laura, {to Mrs B.) Be but just; not generous, only just. 

Mrs. B. Mr Huntington, I have been both harsh and 
hasty in my judgment of you. I have heard read both 
charge and refutation from the Herald, and have listened 
attentively to your recital of all the facts. Perhaps I should 
have accepted the truth of the charge with less precipitancy. 

Bar. (aside) Undoubtedly, you should. 

Mrs. B. We are all subjected to temptation, and all are 
more or less liable to fall; but knowing you as I did, I should 
at least have known that you were entitled to a hearing. 
But we all have faults to answer for, and you were wounded 
by one who should have been your friend In>tead of 
judging you I ask for judgment. Can you forgive me Arthur? 

Art. From the bottom of my heart, I do. 

Mr. B. My dear wife, I knew you would be a credit to 
yourself. 

Laura. My darling mother, and bless you for it. 

Bar. {asids.) Humph! This is not so bad after all. 

Laura. Now, that all is forgiven, why cannot all be for- 
gotten ? 

Mr. B. Forget there was ever anything to mar the face 
of friendship. 

Mrs. B. I wish it might be so. 

Art. It can, and shall be so, and in the future only the 
pleasant past shall be remembered. 

Bar. For lo! the winter is past; the storm is over and 
gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing 
of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the 
land. 

(Curtain Bell.) 

ACT. IV. 

Scene 1. — Ttoom adjoining Grand Salon of Ocean House- 
Music in Salon — Enter Lord H. and Alice in full dress. 

Lord H. Sit down and rest yourself, my darling, for I 
know you must feel the need of it. There is little danger of 
disturbance here. The heat in there {indicating Salon) was 
positively stifling; or, at least, I found it so. 

Alice. Yes, I was almost suffocated; but dear, 1 hope you 
do not feel unwell? Here, try my salts, they will do you good. 

Lord H. No, thank you; and now that I am here alone 
with you, away from the noise and turmoil of the crowd, with 



ccPiD VS. crrimTY. 4d 

no one to dispute my riglit to all your time, I feel revived 
already. Beneath the liistre of those wondrous eyes there is 
no thought of self save as it bears on you; no wish but to be 
more worthy of your love, inside.) Heaven forgive me. 

Alice. And do 3'ou really love me, so? 

Lord H. And do you still distrust me, Alice? Have not I 
laid bare my inmost thoughts that you might see how you 
liave grown'to be a part of every hope — yes, of life itself; for 
'A-ithout you, life would be but living death. You have my 
heart's best, purest, only love, an homage until to you, refused 
to all. Do not strike down all hope, nor even bid it falter. 

Ali<-A\ No, Henry, dear; 1 gave to you my deepest love, 
Nud trust it in your keeping without a fear. You know I 
love you; but really dear I thought it very strange the attention 
you paid to Laura; and not only I, but others thought you 
serious. 

Lord H. But with your usual goodness forgave it all when 
.►nee you knew my reason. Poor thing! I pitied her in her 
misery. The crushing blow she had received may have 
impelled me to be over-courteous; but with you, my love was 
ever present, perhaps, overshadowed by sympathy for 
another in distress; but warm and shining just the same. 

Alice. Yes, I have forgiven that, for we all felt sorry for 
Laura in her attiiction, and if you proved kmder than the 
rest, I am sure I see no cause for censure. You know you 
are all the world to me, and though you did seem cold it is 
all forgiven, for you loved me just the same. 

L.ord 11. Believe me, Alice, jest the same. My heart was 
yours when first I saw you, and when I felt myself beloved 
b}-^ yoN the heavens seenied opening wide their gates before 
me. I wandered in the paths of dreamland while you, the 
angel of my dreams, did ever lead the w^ay, and when the 
liour of waking came, your image sat enshrined within the 
inner temple of my heart. When thought poured forth its 
torrent from out the soul you ever charmed it into music. 
The past seemed wasted and its joys profane, for you had 
held no place therein. The future, ever bright and fair, for 
you were there with love, the pure-eyed angel, to make all 
coming time a season of abundant bliss. Can you ever again 
distrust me? {aside.) Claude Melnotte. 

AUc£. No, no! And, oh! the thought that this great 
love is mine is heaven itself. To love and be beloved by 
those we love — what can be more like Paradise. 

Lord II. 1 have your heart; but when, my darling, may I 
call you all my own. I long to call you mine, and prove my 
love by deeds of love. AVhen shall • 



44 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

Alice, {starting up) Oh, bother! Here comes some stupid 
thing. How mean. I think they might have allowed us a 
little time to ourselves. 

Lord II. I should think so. {aside) 1 will have the tiling 
settled before the night is over. 

{Enter Edith and Chatterton.) 

Edith. Oh! Here you are. We have been hunting for 
you for the past half-hour, ahiiost everywhere; and have you 
been here all that time? Why, Alice, dear, what have you 
been doing to your face — one side is white and the other is 

• not as much so. What have you on your coat, Lord 

Hetherly, Powder? 

Lord H. Oh — I — no, you must be mistaken, I think. 

Edith. It is possible, I am: of course you do not use it, 
therefore I //i?<s^ be mistaken, {aside.) It is a shame we 
should have disturbed so interesting a tete-a-tete. 

Alice. It was so frightfully warm in there that we came 
here in search of a more comfortable atmosphere 

Edith. And, of course, succeeded in tinding it; but still, 
Alice, dear, you do not look cool; but then looks are so 
deceitful. Nor do you act as though you feel so; but then it 
is not always possible for one to act as they feel. 

Ghat. And this seems as hot as Dutch-^ — , as warm as an 
oven. 

Lord II. Oh, you must grant that this is an improvement 
in temperature upon the other room, to say nothing of the 
relief from its turmoil. 

Alice. Yes, you must do that. 

Edith. Oh, I will, and in addition to its being an im- 
provement in the respects named, it also affords a grand 
opportunity for other things. But I must tell you the news: 
The Braytons have all gone over to Barrett Cottage. Of 
course, the divine Arthur will be there. They meet en familie. 

Alice. And what is there in this? I see nothing strange, 
for it frequently occurs. They visit back and forth daily, 
almost. 

Edith. But they were sent for after dark, and apparently 
in haste. 

Chat. Yes, I can vouch for that ; at least I was so informed. 

Lord H. Then, of course, you are prepared to vouch for 
it. But really I see nothing at all strange in this; but I sup- 
pose you mean that it will afford a good opportunity to 
imagine strange things. I should imagine it to be a tedious 
task to make a mountain of a mole hill. 



cunn V8. CUPIDITY. 45 

EiWh. There may be nothing]; in it after all, of course; but 
I thoui;htperliaps there Uiight be. {usidc to Alice.) You look 
as thoui^h you had the measles. It seems to me that 1 would 
try to fiiul u belter place to lop than clown on a gentleman's 
dres.s coat. For shame! Not only have you ruined his coat, 
but you have made yourself look horrid by rubbing all the 
powder otr one cheek. 

Alice, {aside to Edith.) How can you, Edith. It is down- 
right cruel to abuse me so. But do 1 really look so frightful? 
Have you a powder rag with you? 

Kdit/!. {(fsidf to Alice.) I never use it, as you very well 
know; and if I were you I would go and fix myself, and not 
stand liere making a display of myself; if you can tear your- 
self from the company of the all-absorbing he for a long 
enough period. 

Alice, {nuide to Edith.) But how can I leave him now, 
without 

Edith, {aside to Alice.) He will not miss you, if you are 
gone less than an hour-or-two. 

(Enter SkrvaxNT, d. f.) 

Serv. {to Lord 11.) Is this Lord Hetherly? 

Lord H. It is; and why? 

Seri). A gentleman wishes to see you, sir. (gives card.) ' 

Lord /:/. Show him here, for I have no time to devote to 
business now. (A>/^Serv.) I wonder who it can be; some 
stranger, evidently. Murchison! I have never heard the 
name that I am aware of until now. 

Alice. How, now, my lord? You are not going to leave 
us I hope? 

Edith. Your visitors seem to have the faculty of choosing 
the most inopi)ortune times for calling upon you. It is not 
Mr. Snaggett again, is it? 

Lord II. No. It is some one of whom I have no knowl- 
edge, and, as the disturbance will be but momentary I will 
learn his mission here. 

{Enter Murchison.) 

Murch. (to Lord II.) Do I address Lord Hetherly? 

Lord 11. You do, sir; and to what am 1 indebted for a 
visit so untimely? 

March. You do not know me, it seems, and pardon me 
for saying it; but I know your lordship very well. 



4^ 



CUPID VS. CUPIDITY. 



Lord II. Indeed! AVell, I must admit not having the 
honor of knowing you; but perhaps you will acquaint me 
with yourself, and with j^our business also, and I must insist 
beforehand that unless the latter be most urgent, j'ou will 
postpone entering into its details until another time. The 
time is rather poorly chosen, for you see I am otherwise 
engaged. 

^Uce. {aside to Lord H.) Yes, do not go, unless the matter 
be most urgent; w'ill you, dear'i 

Murch. I am truly sorry to disturb you, my Lord, but m.v 
business will hardly bear delay. It is of a nature which re- 
quires that we leave this place at once for further con- 
sultation Are you ready to proceed? 

Lord H. Really, sir, you give me cridit for more credulity 
than I am entitled to; and since I am a party to this matter, 
I must also be a judge of its importance. You will be pleased 
to state the nature of this business. 

Al'ce. This man shows wonderful efFiontery, I think, and 
seems to have a very high opinion of his own importance. 

Edith, {to Alice') While you show wondrous interest, 

dear, in what alone affects his Lordship {several coupUs 

stroll in — talcing position at rear.) 

Murch. Oh, certainly; with all the pleasure possible un- 
der the circumstances, {hands Lord II. a warrant for his 
arrest.) This, I hope, will save the trouble of a lurtlier 
explanation. 

Lord 11. {reads^ and drops icorrant.) For me! Oh! no, 
there is some mistake; this cannot be for me. This must be 
all a jest. Come, sir, enough of this. 

Murch. A very practical joke, I think, you will find it. 
Will you now take time to render judgment as to the import- 
ance of our business. 

{Alice takes vp, and reads warrant.) 

Alice. What is this! No! no! It is a most outrageous 
slander. It cannot be that this is merited. Speak! Oh! 
speak! and say that it is false. But deny it, and I will 
believe you atrainst the world, {to Murchison.) And you, 
too, speak, rnd tell who prompted this most foul attempt at 
humor — if you are not already stricken dumb with shame. 

Edith, {to Chat.) His Lordship does not look exactly 
buoyant, and whatever it may be, there must be something 
in it far frotn pleasant. 

Chat. His seven senses seem to have lost themselves, or 



curin vs. cupidity. 47 

else lie would have somclhinfj to offer out of his usual 
volnbilify. 

Murrh. 1 am sorry to Imve caused so much disturbance, 
and would pludly have escaped it; but if tlie path to duty be 
a painful one, 1 niust follow it just the same. Tiie way is 
clear, and I see no chan«'e— nor liave I a desire — to go around 
it. That you may escape what seems to promise an un- 
deserved trial, I will say no more about it, and hope his 
Tiordship will go without the trouble of a scene, as he by 
this time understands that it is necessary that he should 
.ittend me. 

Alice. lie shaM not go until I know the whole of 
this att'air — and what it means. 

Edith, {to Chat.) His Lordship's feathers are drooping 
badly. 1 wish he would tell us what this means. 

}furch. Oh, very well; since you will know all, I will 
endeavor to accommodate you, unless his Lordship prefers 
to be the story-teller. When one narrates a personal expe- 
rience, they are sure to do it with greater effect upon their 
hearers. 

Lord H. No, no; I have flothing that I wish to say just 
now. Do as you choose. 

MurcJi. 1 am sorry 

Alice. Retain your sympathy until it is asked for — we 
do not desire any of it. 

Miirch. To begin {\\en.~( pointing to Lord. jFZ.)— there is 
a man — nothing more — a bare frame-work without a virtue 
that, is not borrowed. For some time past I have been en- 
deavoring to establish this fact, and at last have succeeded. 
He is an eccentric fellow. False alike to friend and foe — 
and I have ample proof to prove him so. In addition to be- 
ing a rogue, he is a thief, and as such 1 arrest him, 

AHce. No! it must not be. It is false! (falls fainting in 
Lord H's arms.) 

Edith, {aside to Oh^f.) I always knew there was some- 
thing wrong about the man. 

Scene 2. — S^ime as scejie 2, Act ,'J. — Grove— Enter Lord H. and 
MuucirisoN. 

March. I tell you there is no need of my explaining 
further for you will soon find out how much we know. 
You may rest assured it is enough to make you stand in a 
most unenviable > light; and if yo\i receive one-half that is 
due you, you will wish you had gone somewhere else to play 
your games. 



48 curm vs. cupidity. 

Lord H. But come, my dear fellow; curtail your haste, 
and show you have some sense. Can we make no com- 
promise? 

Murch. No, sir. With me you cannot. If those who 
have least reason to show you mercy, and of whom no one 
but such as you would have the assurance to ask it, feel 
inclined to do so, it is ycmr good fortune, and to them you 
must talk of compromise. If left to me, I would refuse you 
very soon. 

Lord. H. I hardly think that I will play Bob Acres, and 
sue for mercy on my marrow bones to them; nor do 1 ]»ro- 
pose to clip the King's English with you any moie than I 
think is necessary. If there is any chance to iix this matter 
with you, or any body else, I am ready to proceed. You are: 
on a pretty high horse, and unlil you saw the legs otf, and 
come down a bit, I do not see that I can learn anything from; 
you. 

March. I have no advice to give you. Your friend Snag- 
gett has signified a willingness'to help me all he can, and 
taking him at his word, I put hinn under lock and key to 
make sure of him when wanted. Perhaps, he knows you 
even better than I do. We have you on tlie hip, you see. 

Lord. JL The devil! Tliis is deucedly rich, 1 must say, 
and he was white-livered after all, the 

Murch. Oh, he only did so under heavy pressure; and 
now that this precious friend has otfered himself in evidence 
against you, I hope you are ready to knock under and cry 
peccavi. You were a sly dog, in your own opinion; but in 
that of others, I am afraid you will find yourself a 
mangy cur. 

Lord IL Oh, well; cut that, old man. Your opinion is^ 
hardly worth the breath it costs you, so keep it to yourself 
until you find abetter market for it. My mind is made, 
up. I will try and come to terms with Huntington, 

Murch. With Barrett, you mean — for he it was who put 
me on this track. Huntington does not even suspect the 
knave you are. 

Lord IL Barrett! This is another chance against me; but 
try I must. So here is a go. 

Murch. All right; but make up your mind to come to his 
terms, for he is a person who will stand no nonsense from 
you. 

Lord H. There you go, with another one of those choice 
opinions. If you are through with it, I would like to go. 

Murch. Very well. Proceed. {Exit both.) 



CUPID VS. Cl'PIDITY. 49 

ScHNiC 3. —{liiirrctCs — SiinieasHc^ne 1, Act^) Mk. andMkb. B 
AND Barrett. 

Btr. Oil, I i^rant it smacks of informality to send you 
word and expect an answer in jinfjtria penfoiui. You will 
think 1 inii^Iit have (tailed on yon instiad of expressing such 
hot haste in having you come here. True, so 1 might, if the 
arrangements were all my own. But necessity made me sub- 
ject to another more exacting than myself. Furthermore, 
circumstances were unfavorable to any other plan. 

Mrn. n. Hut why not tell us why we have come. I am 
sure we have the right to ask. 

Ji (r. Most certainly, you have. 

Mr. li. Your Jehu could tell us nothing — although we 
plied the lash of curiosity without allowing breathing lime, 
lie stood it without flinching. 

Bar. I suppose Miss L^ura and Arthur will soon be here, 
and when they come I will unfold my budget, that all may 
know at once. 

Mrs. B. What, is Arthur a stranger to this strangeness? 
Well, really, there must have been a revolution in the natural 
order of things for one to have withheld a secret from the 
other. 

Bar. This w^onderful phenomenon is easily explained. I 
did not know the facts I shall relate until quite late, and sent 
for you as soon as known. They might have kept; but 
would have lost by keeping — which decided me against 
delay. 

{FJ/iter Art. & Laura.) 

Art. Come, Lee; what does all this mean? For once you 
have left me in the dark, and I cannot plead incurious. 

Laura. Leadinu; us to imagine the most extravagant of 
things, without a hint of what the matter really was. IIow 
could you, Mr. Barrett? 

Bar. I will try and make atonement for such unwarrant- 
able negligence by tel'ingyou all I have to tell without delay. 
I have something strange to tell you. Hold! Wait until I 
have finished. 1 am going to relate something to you more 
than ordinarily strange, and as proof positive of the truth 
"What I say, I have arranged to bring the subject — not onl}' 
before your minds — but to produce an ocular demonstration 
of it as more convincing. 

^fr B. We slKHild not have questioned your veracity 
without the ocular proof. 



50 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

Bar. But I desired that you should have it, and was also 
anxious that you should receive conviction here. 

Art. And we have responded submissively to your will, 
and are open to conviction. 

Laura. I am reminded that I too have something strange 
to tell, and to use the lancruage of our worthy host — more 
than ordinarily strange. It is about a something in which 
you gentlemen {meaning Bar. & Art.) expressed some curi- 
osity. A correspondents name. One who, if not exprt'ssing 
an interest in your welfare, at least made mention of you 
both. A few weeks since. You mvHt remember. 

Art. Oh! certainly; noW T do. Although the recollrctiori 
was becoming very dim, and needed jogging. Had you for- 
gotten, Lee. 

Bar. Almost — I must admit — although I am clear upon 
the subject now. We were rather importunate 

Laura. And I was equally obstinate. I see your memory 
is quite clear. 

Mrs. B. {to Lav r a.) More mystery. Well, really, dear, 
I think you might have told us long ere this. To keep your 
secrets under lock and key from me is hardly justifiable. A 
moiel daughter has no secrets irom her mother. 

Mr. B. A secret must be worth the keeping, or it is never 
kept; and since now we are to know it, I can see no harm in 
the delay. 

iMura. {to Bar.) But whatever I may have to say, will 
not be said until after you have finished. It would be most 
ungenerous of me to satisfy a curiosity I had not raised. 
Should yours fall short, I will furnish mine — or serve it as 
desert. 

Ai't. Which will prove entirely satisfactory, I am sure. 
But, Lee, we are ready to begin — or rather ready to have you 
do so. We have had the preface, and now for chapter the 
first. 

Bar. But you have not heard my preface yet. First of* 
all, I must ask this body to reconsider its vote taken upon 
a previous occasion, wheref^y it was agreed and made a law 
to bury beyond all resurrection, up to the time that Gabriel 
blows the final rereilU, the recollection of a recent past un- 
pleasantness. I have violated the law, and then asked leave 
to do so; but it is most essential that I have permist«ion in 
order to proceed. 

laura. (ande) The very subject I would have opened. 
What can he know, I wonder. 

Art. {aside) This Murchison affair, undoubtedly. I won- 
der what he can have found. 



CliriD vs. CUPIDITY. 51 

Mr. ]>. I'lilesH it be m(jst necessary, and the object truly 
worthy, I must object. 

Vuir. Hrlievo nie, unless it was, I would not afik its open- 
inir. That its sofond sepulcre may be more securely sealed. 

J// . 7>. I tliink we may trust your judgment, and for the 
time withhold the workin;;s of the law. What say jou, all? 

AU. The same. 

Ijmra. Now, proceed to return the favor for the one 
received. 

Art. Yieij, you must have finished with your introduction 
now. 

linr. To begin: A short time since we were all made to 
feel the force of some one's knavery, through its effect upon 
one now present at whom it was aimed; but as to who the 
knave might be, his rea-^on or purpose, there was nothing 
beyond suspicion. He who was made the object of misrep- 
resentation suspected its author; but thought him, worthy 
only of contempt, and would not seek to satisfy suspicion. 
T but partially agreed with him, and thought it better to 
know beyond a doubt to whom he was ind«'bted, and im- 
Hgined much that I never dared hope to realize. 

Art. Now, tell us wljat you realized. 

Bar. I found that the one suspected was but a tool in the 
hands of a shrewder and more designing villain. 

Art. Can it be possible? As you had thought probable? 
■ Laura, {aside.) Can he know all, I wonder. 

Bar. I employed a tried and faithful otRcer to probe the 
matter to its very depth, and well he did his work. From 
first to last the trail was clear, and to-night has ended or wilt 
end in a capture. 

Mr. B. A capture! Where — here. .? 

Mrs. B. Oh! shameful! 

Bar. You know the person well; and though I gave you 
leave to guess, you would never think to name him. 

Laura. Be not too sure of that, for I should name him at. 
the first attempt. Your secret is mine as mine is yours. 
However, I will not disturb the even tenor of your story, for 
I may yet have something rare to add when you have finished. 

Art. What! you knew this then! But how. ^ 

Mr. B. Why, daughter, I am all astonishment. 

Mrs. B. And so Would anybody be. 

Ljavra. T will not be rude again; and break into your 
story, iVIr. Barrett, if yoii will pardon this offense. 

Bar. I am parting with my laurels, very rapidly. How-c 
ever I will proceed. I need not state in extanso the various 



62 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY, 

stages of the game as played. My man started upon the 
foothold furnished by suspicion to ferret out tlie libel, which 
has turned out to have been instigated by a third party, who 
intrusted it to the one suspicioned — who in turn furnished it 
to his friend, a reporter, who wrote it up as bona fide intelli- 
gence, and as you have been made aware, could tind no, to 
him, good reason for doubting its truth. 

Art. He could learn nothing satisfactory at the office, if 
he tried. Precisely, I see. They knew their ground very 
well who proposed the thing. 

Bar. As I said, the libel occupied our attention altogether; 
the loss of the letters written, that would have proved the 
falseness of the libel, h9,ving been attributed to natural 
causes — or at least to causes other than the one in hand. 
However, at the proper time, they took their place in line of 
evidence; or rather, one did, and where one went we think 
the other must have gone. The letter traced was taken from 
the box where it had been deposited by the writer, and mail- 
ed to his task master here, by the one nt whom suspicion had 
first pointed. Both letters were destroyed, or, at all events 
escaped an earnest nearch. 

{Laura takes both from pocket and hands them to Art.^ 

Laura. You will find them there, I think; but do not let 
me interrupt you, Mr. Barrett. Proceed with your story for 
I am all attention. 

Art. But, Laura, what does all this mean. Explain your- 
aelf. 

Mr. B. I shall soon be a candidate for Bedlam, if this 
keeps on. 

Mrs. B. Well really, daughter, you are taking a very 
active though silent interest in this story. But it will be 
necessary for you to proceed in order to have her explain, I 
«ee, Mr. Barrett. 

Bar. And my glory will soon be without a leg to stand 
tipon if she keeps on. But there is little more to tell — the 
knaves were found and the tool confessed, thereby making 
assurance doubly sure. 

Laura, (aside.) Then he does not know it all. 

Bar. I have no desire to prolong this matter in your 
minds when once the mist of doubt is cleared away. When 
you have seen the builder of this labarynth, for I intend to 
show him to you shortly, you will not be long in arriving at 
his reason for adopting so mean a plan. 

Laura. Here, I must plead ignorance, if it be other than 
a natural hunt for trickery. Am I correct. 



CUril) vs. CL'IMDITY. 53 

Bar. ThiriUy. But Hit n it is cjuite as well, perhaps, that 
voii slioukl not know all, as 1 was very much afraid you 
'lid. 

[Kuftr Jd/ios — callhio Bur. a«ide.) 

{liar, t" Jautex.) \'ery, well, show them in. (Exit James.) 
1 sliall now introduce to your notice tiie originator of all our 
inisadvenlures, and shall set before him the onlj' alternatives, 
which is to make a frank confession. And, failing in that, 
lie must trust to the temper of the law. [ would rather, for 
I he sake of all concerned, thai he would choose the former. 

Art. Oh, yes; this course is much the best. We have no 
lU.siie to air our knowledge of him in a court of law, whoever 
lie may be. 

Laura- And yet he is a wrrtliy object for its penalties, 
and thoroughly unworthy of his liberty. 

Mr. B. But how about his aid t' What disposition have 
y(»u made of him? 

liar, lie is as unpromising as the other; but only as he 
serves against his former nuister is he now of use. His ability 
to turn against his friend is proof sufficient of his character. 
He is deserving of nothing better than contempt, {noise 
oyitxich.) Ah! Here they come. Remember the one you 
know is the one you best had never known. 

(^;</<-?' LoKi» H. AND MuRcn.) 

Art and Mr. B. Lord Iletherly! 

Mrs. B. Oh, no, impossible! It cannot be. 

L'rd II. Oh, but it is; and good evening to you all. But 
then you do not seem exactly tickled to see me. Well, con- 
sole yourselves with the thought that I return the ieeling 
with interest. There is a striking similaritj^ of emotion, as 
one might say. I see that you have all mastered the situation, 
therefore, there can be no necessit}" for mincing matters. 
{to Jiar.) You know, very well, why I came here, and that, 
I would not have done so unless 1 had hoped to make an 
arrangement more agreeable to myself than this interesting 
companion of mine [March) would i)romise me. 

Art. And can this be the truth? Why, I barely know^ 

the man, and what have T ever done to give him reason 

Ah! Now, I see it all; from what took place during my 
absence it must have been that- , the villain. 

Mr. B. (to Mrs. B.) This is most sad, I know, my dear; 



54 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

but we will say no more about it. Appearances are so icon- 
derfully deceitful, one never knows liinv much to trust them, 

Mrs. B. {to Mr. B.) To think 1 should have thought him 
every inch airentleman 

Mr. Be And have lived to know him every inch a roj^ue. 
It is (luite distressinjT to have our ideas of human nature so 
assailed and oonfrover;ed, 1 admit, my dear 

Bar. {to Lord H) I am glad, not out of sympathy for 
yourself, hov\ever — for I have none for you — that you rieier- 
niined to come here, and sue for a little of that mercy, in the 
dispensation of which you have been so economical when 
dealing with u^. We have concluded to compronjise this 
matter with you, in order that our memories may be no 
longer hampered by a thing so disajireeable. You need say 
nothing until I have iinisiied, and then, as little as possible. 
What your deserts are, you know as well as 1; but as to that, 
no mafter. We know of all the traps you laid to catch cred- 
ulity; in fact, 1 think, that none of your cupidity has escaped 
us. 

Laura, {aside) As to that, we shall see. 

M'lrch. I think we have the ring in his nose this time. 

Bar. What we want is a frank confession of the wrongs 
you have committed, or rather of those you intended com- 
mitting; and in which you were but partially successful. 
You were the author of the defamatory article published 
against that gentleman, {imlkating Art.) Your object is 
also known, though we need not refer to that. Furthermore, 
you stole, or caused to have stolen, two letters wiitten by 
the same gentleman — one of which was addressed to me. 
Y^ou need not start; you see we know all, and what is even 
more, we have the letters here, and your confederate where 
.we can place our hands on him at any time. Now, what is 
wanted of you is an acknowledgment, in the presence of all, 
that you are guilty of the acts charged. Do you adniit? 
Refusing to do so, you will have to stand your chancts before 
another tribunal. 

Lord H. Begging pardon of all flesh here present for 
being in the world, I will proceed to state my case and review 
the condition of alfiirs. 

Bar. You need do nothing of the kind. Your career has 
been reviewed sufficiently. The question is, do you accept 
the terms offered or no. 

Art. Now, that I comprehend the motive which led to 
this man's assault, I am opposed to showing any clemencj^ 
■whatever, and am in favor of doing with him as he deserves, 
that IS handing him over for the law to deal with. 



cunn vs. cipidity. 55 

Ln-d II. (to Vuir.) All ri^lit; T accept — which I suppose 
leave me to no my way unmolested. 

Minrh. For a vrry short lime, onl}', my eccentric friend. 

liar. Y(tu stole those letters referred to; did you not? 
AVc know the iiuih, therefore see that you do not wander 
fr(»m it in your rejilies. 

L »'<l II. Yes, one of them. The other I received from 
an ol)lij:;ini; fiiend. 

//.'/'. It was you who compounded that vil'ainous 
ronianoe. 

Lord II. It was — that is T furnished plot and characters. 

Art. Why did you not puhlisjj tlie truth if you wanted to 
injure me. for thf re>ult of so (htin^ij would undoubtedly 
have been fatal to me, and would have kept me from ever 
returnini;, p«'rhai)s. In your zeal you over-stepped the bounds 
of reason, and ruined all possibility of succeeding had it 
ever existed. 

Pxir. You acknowledge having phiyed the cheat and 
black-gnard — to have been a rogue and a villain. Speak! 
Do) on! 

Lo7-d. If. I do! But don't you put it rather strong. It 
seems so to me. 

Bar. Now that you have confessed all 

Laura. One moment, please. But has he confessed all. 
Let liim think a moment. 

L >/'iZ ir. My accuser says I have, and I am not going to 
be disaiisfied. 

Ltniru. 1 have another letter here, which I have carritd 
about — with the others I gave you — for several days waiting 
for such an opportunity as this to present itself, although I 
had not dared iiope for one so favorable, in every particular. 
This additional letter throw-s even more liizht upon the sub- 
ject than the other, {liaiulimj it to Art.) Please read it aloud 
for the benefit of all. 

Art. Warncliff . Why, Laura, this is froiii Clara — 

for it is surely her handwriting. 

Laura. To be sure it is — from yOur sister. Go on. 

Bar. Well, this certainly caps the climax. 

Art. {readiufi ) ^ly dear I aura: I received your letter day 
before yesterday, and was of course glad to Iiear frv)m you. 
Fortunately I have succeeded in gaining the intelligence you 
desire, with little delay, we being in Kent, wherein your pa- 
trician claimed a partial residence. 1 took the matter into 
my own hands and carried it to the bitter end — for bitter it 
musi be fur some one. You gave me the titles of 3'our 



56 CUPID vs. CTjPIDITY. 

psendo-lord, and upon consulting Debrett upon the peerage 
I discovered — or ratlier failed to discover — tlie existence of 
one of the titles given. {(idonishmciU.) Tlie title of the 
Marquis of Einerdale does not exist. It was created in lOoS 
by letters patent issued by Charles I, but the holder lost hi-^ 
head with his unfortunate master under Cromwell, and the 
title died with him. Tliis 1 copy, verbatim, from my author- 
it3^ That of the Earl of Ashford does exist, the manor 
house of the present holder being situated in an adjoining 
.shire. I called there yesterday, and was most kindly rect ived 
by the Earl, who read your letter and was exceedingly aston- 
ished at such total depravity as was displayed ia tlie char- 
acter of the person you therein described. He pronounces 
the person an imposier and scoundrel, and was very mucli 
surprised to learn that, in a land like America, where the 
people are proverbially shrewd, a person should be able to 
wrongfully assume such a multiplicity of titles, and wear 
them for so long a time without being found out. He was 
losing faith in Yankee sharpness. 

Liura. You need read no further, Arthur. This may 
disestablish the identity of this individual, but it proves him 
all the greater rogue. {March. converseH with Bar. c.rcitedly.) 

Mrs. B. {to Mr. B.) 1 can stand no more Edward. This 
has been a severe blow to my weak nerves, {fmntly) 1 
muRt have air. {Moir>i toward K.vlt.) 

Mr. B. {to Mrs, B.) But is he not a precious scoundrel, 
and what a pair of happy parents he might have made us. 
{foUom Mrs. B.) 

Mrs. B. My, dear, don't mention it. {Exit d. f.) {Exit 
Murch ) 

B ir. {to Lord U ) Well, sir, it is even worse than I had 
any conception of. Hav^e you anything to say, and do you 
admit the truth of what has just been read? Mr. Mr. 

Lord 11. lletherly, if you please, fc^ince you no doubt 
are tired of me, and believe me I am of you, [ will confess 
that what was read is true. And now that you know all, I 
will not trouble you by remaining any longer, except to 
remind you to remain true to your bargain with me: that I 
shall not be molested again. 

Bar. StHy! Our friend Murchison has expressed a most 
positive disregard for my bargain with you. He has had 
considerable dealing with criminals, and insists that you are 
one against whom the law should take action; but to oblige 
me, he has consented to allow you one hour's liberty — to give 
you that much the start of him in time; but if at the end of 



CUTTD VS. CUPIDITY. 57 

lliat time you are to be found, lie will show you no mercy — 
but band you over to Ibe authorities. There is no train 
Icaviiii; here within the tinie named— but tiie walkini:; is 
mther i^ood, and I woidd ailvise you to lake advantaiie of it, 
and meet the train at tlie next slat'ion. Your friend Snncirett 
will have an op|)()rtunity to follow your example. Further- 
more, Murchison says be will post the authorities through 
the columns of the ilerald, upon 3'our dark ways and vain 
tricks, thereby closing the field against further operations. , 

L 'til 11. Thank you. But excuse me if I tear myself 
away; I know mv heart will break in parting from you— but, 
never mind. {Motrn io/ntrd E.rit) 1 will endeavor to protit 
by your advice. Yours, most sincerely; in fact I might say 
liUMd)ly. (Ext'i.) 

Arf. There goes a thorough knave! But now, Laura, we 
will have 3'()ur story iu full. Who would ever have imagined 
that you li:i,l been at work unravelling this thread of 
cupidity. 

B ir. {rmd3.) Give me Cupid against cupidity everylime. 

Art. Tell us how and when you came to know it all, and 
then threw the ellbrts of our other friends almost under a 
cloud. 

Jiur. I had an inclination to feel a trifle proud over the 
part I had taken, but I have not the heart to do so now. {io 
L(inr<i) Yes, you have eclipsed the combined ellbrts «)f 
iSIurchison and myself, and now I must know the why's and 
the wherefor's. 

L wru. What 1 haye done, and how and why I did it, can 
soon be told; and when we are once more together I shall 
take pleasure in enlightening you But when it has been 
told, I must insist that this again becomes a subject past 
rec^dl. 

li'ir. Oh. certainl}'; T most readily agree, and now will 
call in all the famdy. The moral atmosphere is once more 
pure, with the n 'xiwu-; vapors all di-persed The sUy is once 
more clear, and as the siorm clouds i)ass the realms of re- 
collection and lose them beyond the horzon of lime, we will 
liope that they may lose their line of orbit also, and in 
passing choose atiother way. {Exit Bar ) 

A>-t. But tell me, Launi. how you came to write to Clara. 

L ntnt. I heard \oii mention where she was, and knew she 
would liefiiend us it she ( onid. And well she did it. I will 
tell you all another time, Imt now onr troubles arv all i)ast 
and gone, and we should siiive to banish them from memoiy. 
Let us begin at once, and live only in the gladsome light of 



58 CUPID vs. CUPIDITY. 

peace and joy, trusting to the soothing hand of Time to still 
all painful recollection. 

(3//*. and 3frs. B. appear at D. F. and stop, Mr. B. approving 
and Mrs. B. assenting.) 

Art. And you, darling, are my light and my peace and 
happiness. 

Lanra. And you are ever mine. 

Curtain Bell, 



FINIS. 



OCT 6 ^93'' 



'^m 



